


falling deeper (you and me together)

by kangtv (galacticnik)



Category: Wanna One (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Forced Bonding, M/M, Miscommunication, mentioned Kim Jaehwan/Kang Daniel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-26
Updated: 2018-11-26
Packaged: 2019-08-20 01:14:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 24,632
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16545989
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/galacticnik/pseuds/kangtv
Summary: A spell gone wrong leaves Seongwu and Minhyun linked in more ways than one. This would not be a problem if their relationship wasn't...complicated.





	falling deeper (you and me together)

**Author's Note:**

> **FOR PROMPT 50:** magical uni au! onghwang at a frat party wake up magically bound to each other by the hand.
> 
> title from into you by yuri. unbeta'd and probably riddled with spelling and grammar mistakes. i apologize in advance!
> 
> a big thank you to the sirius rises mods for hosting this fest and being awesome even though this entry is super late ♥

On the big fat list of ‘things that suck,’ his pounding headache takes the top spot.

Waking up hungover is not a novel experience for Ong Seongwu. You could call it the staple of an extremely fulfilling university life—or a consequence of. One of the criminally underrated side effects of being well-liked is that he gets an invite to every party on and around campus, which in turn traps him in the social obligation of making an appearance to be polite. Once he’s there, someone usually hands him a bottle of something alcoholic, and since he’s burdened with a low alcohol tolerance and the inability to tell people _no_ , he ends up drinking a lot.

Fast forward a couple of hours and he’s totally, completely fucked over. It’s a self-fuck—the most pathetic kind of them all.

His hangovers never get any easier to deal with, at least, not until he drags himself back to his apartment and retires to his room with a glass of water and his former roommate’s miracle hangover cure draught. Kim Jaehwan _might_ be less a witch and more a mad scientist in disguise, but he knows his stuff. Without him, Seongwu would’ve died or dropped out by now, and both would be equally bad in the eyes of his mother.

He could use some of that draught now. Still half-asleep, Seongwu massages his temples and tries to remember what he ingested last night. From what he can puzzle out, the array of drinks available were largely unlabelled. While he stopped counting how many he sampled after the fifth shot, there was a lot more liquor being passed around and to him throughout the evening. A staggering number of the drinks were on fire or involved flames in some way, because Bambam reckoned himself an amateur bartender and professional pyromaniac.

But for the most part, whatever happened during the party last night remains a blur. Seongwu wishes he could say it was worth it, but all he can recall with confidence is drinking (and lots of it). He also vaguely remembers throwing up behind a suspiciously neon plant or something—hopefully, it wasn’t important.

Gamma Omega Tau parties often end up like this and yet Seongwu attends every single one of them. He’s been begging Jaebum to _not invite him thanks I don’t want to be here for months_ , but Jaebum insists on it and Seongwu doesn’t have the heart to let him down. He regrets his soft-heartedness now, along with ever befriending Jaebum and co. in the first place; he’s not cut out for this type of lifestyle. There’s a reason he never pledged.

Forcing himself up with a groan, Seongwu peels the blanket off his legs and takes mercy on his fatigued and hungover brain by abandoning the topic. Whatever happened, happened, and as long as he doesn’t find his drunken antics splashed all over social media, he’s good. And, more to the point, “At least I didn’t end up in bed with someone,” he mutters, wetting his dry lips and grimacing. Talk about adding another big regret to the already mountainous pile that is his life. “Hooray for small victories.”

“Try again,” a vaguely familiar voice replies, dry and unamused.

Seongwu almost topples out of the bed. "Holy _shit_ —” He scrambles to wrap the covers around his body and looks over his shoulder with narrowed eyes.

Lying beside him is Hwang Minhyun. Fully dressed, for what it’s worth, but it’s Hwang _fuckin_ ’ Minhyun, reclining on top of the covers with his arms folded behind his head like he belongs here. Wearing an oversized navy blue hoodie and a pair of baggy gray sweatpants that hang low on his hips, he looks bored and surprisingly put together considering he’s lying in Seongwu’s bed like a common slut—

“This isn’t your bed, by the way,” Minhyun adds. “I can read the panic on your face.” The corners of his mouth twitch, and for a second Seongwu thinks he’s going to smile, but his expression remains inscrutable. “We’re still in the Gamma Omega Tau house. Jackson’s room, I think.”

“Oh.” That explains nothing, least of all why they’re in the same bed. They haven’t really spoken in three years. Seongwu didn’t even think their social circles overlapped enough for them to be at the same party. “I guess that accounts for the scratchy sheets.” Did they hook up last night? The thought fills Seongwu with panic, dread, and something else he doesn’t want to think about. He clutches the covers tighter, twisting the fabric in his grip. “So are you delivering bad news or are you just here by coincidence?”

“Both, in a way. I was here, so I thought I would try to lay the situation out for you.” Minhyun pushes himself into a sitting position and tucks his hands into his pockets. He’s sitting pretty close, and from his vantage point, Seongwu can see hints of the previous night’s toll on him; there are dark circles under his eyes, his lips are dry and cracked, and Seongwu catches a glimpse of what looks like a hickey at the base of his neck.

Did he do that? He tries to imagine his mouth pressed to Minhyun’s skin, sucking and teasing until it darkens, Minhyun’s heavy breaths filling his ears. It doesn’t ring any bells, but Seongwu swallows and looks away anyway as shame creeps in. He could’ve done without that mental picture.

“I had too much to drink last night,” Minhyun continues. “I don’t remember what happened, but I’ve been lying here attempting to piece as much as I can together.”

“ _You_ had too much to drink?” Seongwu always thought Minhyun didn’t like the taste of alcohol. He turns back to him, incredulous. “Who are you?”

Minhyun finally cracks a smile at the disbelief in his voice, but it lacks any real humor. “Evidently, someone you don’t know well.”

He’s not sure how to respond to that. It sounds like a dig at him for… a lot of things, really. It probably is. Minhyun can be unbelievably petty sometimes—or could. Seongwu doesn’t know anymore, which is the conclusion he comes to for all Minhyun-related inquiries. He’s tried very hard not to think about Minhyun these past three years and he supposes this means he’s done a good job of it.

“Okay then,” Seongwu begins, then falters. “Okay. As fun as this conversation is—”

“Is it? Fun?”

“No, it’s not fun whatsoever.” His shoulders slump as he exhales and leans forward. “I’m trying to segue into a polite goodbye so I can go home and wash the stale beer and Jackson off me.” _And you_ , he silently adds. Seongwu doubts they actually did sleep together—he doubts he could forget that—but on the off chance they did, he needs a nice, long shower before he can tackle those memories (or more likely, suppress them forever).

The silence between them grows heavy following Seongwu’s words. Minhyun looks at him for a long moment, and there are a thousand different emotions in his eyes, all bleeding into an unreadable, messy mix. Seongwu used to be able to understand him well; he could pick apart each and every one of those sentiments with ease. He knew Minhyun the same way he knew the back of his hand.

But that was a while ago. The Minhyun sitting beside him is a different person than his childhood best friend. This Minhyun hangs out with frat bros and gets blackout drunk and doesn’t mind the mark on his skin, like he’s used to this kind of thing. This Minhyun looks at him with something between polite detachment and frank disinterest.

The Minhyun Seongwu remembers, however, was a lame nerd who liked Transformers and spent the entirely of second grade walking around dressed as the Flash. He was allergic to breaking The Rules, which also meant he was allergic to Having Fun, but everyone liked him regardless; there was an earnestness to Minhyun that drew people to him. He could be their school's resident prince and ride a pink bicycle to the building every day and it made sense.

Seongwu misses that guy, and he’s not sure why. Maybe it’s about the familiarity that guy brings. He misses being in tune with Minhyun, the one with the pink helmet to match Minhyun’s bicycle. Seongwu doesn’t like not knowing where they stand, but the distance between them is too ingrained at this point.

“You can’t,” Minhyun says finally, pulling Seongwu out of his thoughts. “Leave without me, that is.”

He blinks. “Uh, pretty clingy of you?”

“No, we—” Breaking off, Minhyun pulls his left hand out of his pocket and pushes his sleeve up to his elbow. Tied around his wrist is a thin silver string, nearly translucent in the sunlight. Seongwu senses powerful magic radiating from it—some kind of a strong spell? His curiosity mounting, he follows the length of the string with his eyes and discovers the other end looped around his right wrist. “I have no idea what this is,” Minhyun continues, “but it’s keeping us tied to each other.”

The sensation of the magic touching his skin is _sticky_. It clings to him, uncomfortably hot. Seongwu rubs his wrist absentmindedly and frowns. “Did we get married?” he asks after a long pause, unable to to come up with anything else. Is this one of those hand-fasting rituals or something? He wants to laugh it off as a joke ( _there’s no way—_ ), but Minhyun seems less than amused.

“I hope not.”

“Then what is it?”

Minhyun’s composure cracks for just a second. “I—” Swallowing, he looks down and shakes his head. “I don’t know,” he admits, brows furrowing. “It’s a physical manifestation of some sort of spell. I’ve been working on getting rid of it for the last half hour, but no luck.”

“You’re a _witch_ , dude. Did you try magicking it off?”

Minhyun scoffs. “Bold of you to assume I didn’t try to dispel the enchantment the minute I woke up.” Upon seeing the uncertain look on Seongwu’s face, he sighs and lifts his arm. “Here. I’ll try again.” He whispers a few words of power under his breath, and Seongwu feels the warm rush of Minhyun’s magical energy infuse with the string. It glows faintly for a few seconds, but nothing else happens.

“Maybe you’re doing it wrong,” Seongwu says. Minhyun is the more powerful witch between the two of them, but if there’s one thing Seongwu has above him, it’s the theoretical and technical know-how to deal with tricky enchantments. Closing his eyes, he focuses his power into the string, picturing it unraveling in his mind’s eye, and says the words of power.

When he opens his eyes, it’s still there.

“Son of a bitch.” Beads of sweat run down Seongwu’s forehead. “I put a lot of magic into that spell. It should’ve killed any enchantment in the room.” He’s not used to his spells not working. Failure and Seongwu are not close friends.

“I did too. Repeatedly.” Minhyun sounds as annoyed as Seongwu feels, but he thinks he can hear some concern in his voice as well, and that worries him. “This isn’t a regular—” He stops abruptly and stares down at the space between them. The thin string has faded into nothingness now, but Seongwu can still sense its presence hanging there; the magic thrums, persistent, _present_ , reminding Seongwu of their link. Minhyun’s eyes are narrowed in concentration, the gears in his mind whirring, while Seongwu looks on blankly wishing he could see what Minhyun can.

“It’s a binding spell,” Minhyun says suddenly, tiredly, and rubs his eyes with the back of his hand. “The enchantment tying us together is a powerful binding spell, the kind witches use to bind familiars or demons to them. We learned how to do this in Advanced Spellcraft III last semester.” He pauses, biting his bottom lip. “I don’t remember how to undo it, though.”

That doesn’t sound good. “All spells expire on their own if no one maintains them.” It’s one of the basic tenets of witchcraft. Seongwu likes to think of spells as living creatures in their own right; they need regular nourishment in the form of magical energy or they’ll starve to death.

Minhyun shakes his head. “Not this one. It draws on our own magical energies to sustain itself.” He passes a hand over his wrist and shudders. “It can theoretically last our entire lifetime.”

Seongwu looks down, then back at Minhyun. His face is dead serious, pale and bloodless with a thin sheen of sweat covering his skin from his earlier magical exertion. Seongwu reaches inside himself and feels the tenuous link to Minhyun, feels the hum of his magic swirling throughout his body. If he focuses deeper, he can sense Minhyun’s heart beating, the rhythm timed with his own.

Connected to Minhyun. Magically. Potentially for a lifetime. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

On the revised big fat list of ‘things that suck’: this wins.

 

* * *

 

St. Gregory’s Institute for Higher Learning is one of the oldest magical universities in the world.

It used to be one of the oldest _and_ most prestigious, but a series of unfortunate events led to its rank in the magical community plummeting: lack of funding, program cuts, a couple of murders on campus, and to top it all off, the eldritch horror living at the bottom of the idyllic pond on the grounds ate the dean a couple of summers ago.

They’ve made strides towards recovery since then, but some things are hard to bounce back from. After the dean’s death, enrollment numbers took a nosedive, and professors began quitting or going on sabbatical en masse. The result was a sharp decline in the quality of education St. Gregory was able to provide, and other universities raced to fill the void the institute left behind in its fall from grace.

One of the solutions St. Gregory’s came up with was to open enrollment to wildseed students. Broadly defined, wildseeds are witches who come from non-magical families. Traditionally, only a handful of universities accepted wildseed students. Places such as St. Gregory’s simply didn’t to maintain their exclusivity, and once they opened the doors to everyone, the last vestiges of their prestige evaporated. The money they brought in with tuition, however, more than made up for it.

The main reason Seongwu chose St. Gregory’s out of the hundreds of universities out there is his mother; she’d been a top student during her time there, and in honor of her contributions to the school, his tuition is lower than it would be otherwise. Paired with the scholarships Seongwu somehow managed to wrangle, attending university is almost affordable for him now. Keyword: almost. He’s magic, but that doesn’t mean he’s rich.

He could’ve gone anywhere else if he had the money, even the top ranked Cassar Institute for Magical Studies. His bloodline is (if not strong) definitely magical on his mother’s side; they have a long tradition of churning out famous hexologists and ambassadors to the Netherworld and other qusai-Important People. One day, Seongwu hopes to join them in notoriety.

Magic has been a part of his life since he was four. His mother never bothered to hide their heritage from her kids, so Seongwu and his older sister grew up knowing they were witches. From a young age, he had plans to follow in his family’s footsteps: graduate from one of the big magical universities, become a master witch, and then do all kinds of successful witchy things like alchemical studies in Lemuria or barely-legal necromantic research deep in the Balkans. 

Not included in his (admittedly vague life trajectory) was Hwang Minhyun.

Minhyun is a wildseed, a witch no history of magic in his family. When Seongwu first met him, Minhyun was just a normal human, not yet clued in to the magic within himself. Then again, they were _five_ and couldn’t tell a magical impulse from a burp. As the only two Korean kids living in their cul-de-sac of New Westminster, they naturally became friends after Minhyun moved there for his second year of elementary school and stuck together until their high school graduation.

Being friends with Minhyun was simple; Seongwu can’t think of a time when he wasn’t. Part of it was convenience and self-preservation, sure, but there was so much more tied up with that. Minhyun was funny, determined, smart, often exasperating, but he had a good heart and cared about people too much. More than that, he trusted Seongwu with everything. It was Seongwu he came to first after his parents told him they were getting divorced, and it was Seongwu who helped Minhyun deal with an embarrassing stress related breakdown mid senior year.

In return, Seongwu tried to be a good friend, but there was a small distance they just couldn't bridge. There were some things he couldn’t talk to Minhyun about no matter how much he wanted to. The magic thing, mostly, because you weren’t supposed to talk to ordinary humans about things like that. He wasn’t comfortable with hiding such a big part of his life from his best friend, especially when the friend in question was so open with him. There were so many times when Seongwu nearly spilled the beans, but rules were rules, and he bit his tongue until it was time to leave for St. Gregory’s.

Their goodbye was bittersweet. Despite Minhyun’s attempts to figure out where Seongwu was going to school, he remained tight-lipped about his destination. Minhyun was bound for the University of British Columbia as far as Seongwu knew, and he fully expected to never see him again after that. Witches who followed careers in the magical world didn’t have time for a life outside of it; it was just the way things worked.

Seongwu still remembers Minhyun helping him load his bags into the back of his mom’s car, sweat glistening on his forehead. Once it was done, Minhyun wiped his face with the bottom of his shirt and accepted the glass of lemonade Seongwu offered him with a suspicious frown. “Did you just trick me into doing all the physical labour?”

“You offered,” Seongwu grinned, tipping his glass of soda towards Minhyun in a silent cheers. “And, y’know, my friendship comes with the implicit agreement that you’re going to take care of all the unpleasant stuff so I don’t have to.”

Minhyun stared at him for a moment before letting out a disbelieving laugh. “Of course. My bad,” he said, shaking his head. “That’s why I took all those tests for you last year, right?”

“It was _one_ test and it was for calc. Math and I don’t mix.”

“You, Ong Seongwu, don’t mix with a lot of things.” Minhyun chuckled and took a sip of his lemonade. He was silent for a moment as he swallowed and held the glass to his warm cheeks, seemingly lost in contemplation. “I’m going to miss you,” he said finally, voice small and soft; Seongwu had to strain his ears to hear him. “I didn’t think—I didn’t realize we’d have to go our separate ways. You've always been there in my life.” He sighed, almost mumbling now. “I guess I just selfishly thought we’d always… be together.”

“I’m—gonna miss you too, buddy.” Seongwu felt weird imagining life without Minhyun, thinking of the time when his best friend would no longer be there. His vision of the future was empty with a Minhyun-shaped hole beside him. But Seongwu was a witch and Minhyun wasn’t and that was it. There were no ifs here, no concessions. “I’m not sure I’m prepared for life without you.”

Minhyun set his glass down on top of the car. “There’s something I want to say—I’ve always wanted to say,” he began hesitantly, his expression unreadable. “I need to tell you that I l—”

Before he could finish, Seongwu’s mother emerged from the garage with her keys in hand. “Seongwu, if you’re done loading up, we need to hit the—oh, hello, Minhyun.”

“Hi, Mrs. Ong. I was just leaving. Thanks for the lemonade.” Flashing her a genial smile, Minhyun turned to Seongwu and, after a brief pause, leaned in for a hug. “Keep in touch,” he said, thumping him on the back.

He just stared at Minhyun with his eyebrows raised, wondering what the hell he was trying to say, but Minhyun didn’t seem interested in continuing. So Seongwu dropped the subject as well and gave him a strained smile. “Yeah, I will,” he promised.

Seongwu didn’t keep in touch. Not because he didn’t want to; circumstances made it difficult. He spent two weeks at his grandparents’ residence over the summer, and since the property straddled the boundary between this world and the Netherworld, technology was unreliable at best. His few attempts to text Minhyun never went through. Once he moved into the St. Gregory dorms from there, Seongwu came to the conclusion that messaging Minhyun would be counterproductive. He figured a clean break would be easier. After all, he was moving on with his life and learning to live without Minhyun. This was his chance to finally immerse himself in magic, something he just couldn’t share with Minhyun, so what was the point?

The last thing he expected was to spot Minhyun during freshman orientation, seated with the rest of the wildseed students.

Time seemed to slow to a crawl as they made eye contact across the crowded hall, and Seongwu broke past his utter shock and disbelief long enough to give a tentative wave in Minhyun’s direction. He expected Minhyun to wave back, maybe weave his way through the crowd to come talk to him—this was a big fucking deal, after all—but nothing of the sort happened. Jaw clenching, Minhyun’s eyes shifted to look at something just past Seongwu for a few seconds before sliding back to the front.

And that was it.

Once the initial shock wore off, Seongwu told himself that maybe Minhyun didn’t recognize him and wasn’t, you know, _willfully_ ignoring him to prove a point or something. He wouldn’t blame Minhyun if the latter was true, especially since Seongwu ghosted him for close to a month, but he really hoped that wasn’t the case.

And yet, when he finally worked up the nerve to message Minhyun, he received a polite response saying that _yes_ , he saw Seongwu at orientation, _yes_ , he was excited to learn about the magical world, and _sure_ , they should grab a cup of coffee after class sometime to catch up.

Except ‘sometime’ never really happened. Part of him should’ve been—was—upset that Minhyun was so willing to blow him off, but he also understood that Minhyun was preoccupied with other stuff: intro to the magical world, meeting other wildseeds, etc.

The other part of him realized that Minhyun was probably rightfully angry at him for a lot of things—keeping all this magic stuff a secret from him, ignoring his messages in a shitty attempt to be Independent University Seongwu (whoever the fuck that was). So if Minhyun chose to ignore Seongwu—cool. Seongwu tried to be the bigger person and give him space in return. It seemed like all he could do at the time.

You’d probably expect some kind of dramatic falling out, but theirs was anti climatic, just a quiet acceptance that they’d moved on, that they couldn’t recapture the relationship of their youth. It was one of those things you didn’t try hard to fight because you didn’t want to be the only one who cared.

At least, that was Seongwu’s logic. He briefly entertained an idea of talking to Minhyun at some point, maybe apologizing to him, but there didn’t seem to be any point to it. Things were better this way; he didn’t want to cling onto Minhyun and make things awkward. Independent University Seongwu was not supposed to be awkward.

So he carefully navigated around Minhyun on campus until it become habit, dimly aware that Minhyun was doing the same. Seongwu was unable to escape his shadow completely—he heard talk about Minhyun all the time as one of the most powerful and promising wildseed witches in generations—but it was filtered gossip, distant and detached enough from the man himself that Seongwu could cope with it.

And _yeah_ , maybe sometimes he was nostalgic for the time when they were friends. Sometimes he felt lonely and wished for things to return to his slightly less independent but more fulfilling high school life with Minhyun, but too much time had passed to actively work to change anything between them.

In the end, Minhyun is just somebody Seongwu used to know.

 

* * *

 

Seongwu paces.

Attempts to, at least. The enchantment binding him to Minhyun affords maybe two and a half feet of space between them. Moving beyond that results in a _very_ painful reminder of its existence; Seongwu learned that lesson the hard way in spite of Minhyun’s helpful advice. In retrospect, “it’ll hurt” is not the best way to describe the searing pain that brought Seongwu to his knees when he attempted to leave the room. He’s still reeling from the aftershocks as he gingerly clenches and unclenches his fingers, the crescent shaped scars on his palms dripping blood even now.

Minhyun watches his attempts to wear a hole in the floor with a dispassionate expression. Magic flares between his fingers and he mutters quiet spells, still working on the problem of this enchantment. Seongwu periodically feels the link grow warm, manifesting in a flash of silver as Minhyun throws power at it, but it never subsides, nor disappears entirely.

Every time Seongwu absentmindedly edges close to stepping beyond their acceptable two and a half foot radius, Minhyun gently pulls him back. Seongwu’s hyper-aware of his every movement though they refrain from making skin contact. While he knows it comes with the territory, he likes it less; Minhyun is uncomfortably _there_ in a gross invasion of his personal space. This is the closest they’ve been to each other in three years (not counting the bed-sharing of ten minutes ago).

The sheer physicality of him so near to Seongwu is unsettling, not the least of which is because Minhyun is _too damn good looking_ and Seongwu isn’t used to it. It’s surreal; the image of teenage Minhyun Seongwu has stored up in his brain overlaps with the grown up Minhyun in front of him, highlighting all the changes he’s undergone since then. The core of him remains the same—the fox-like eyes, the wide smile, the perfect nose—but the differences are subtle and enough for Seongwu to feel like he has to memorize Minhyun’s face all over again.

He briefly pauses in his pacing to stare, and only picks it up again when Minhyun raises an eyebrow in askance. Seongwu does not bother explaining. He has better things to do, like pretending to have some pride.

“Okay,” Seongwu says finally, breaking the silence. Minhyun looks up, the remnants of the latest spell vanishing in a puff of smoke. His efforts to break the bond were for nothing; Seongwu is still inexorably linked to Minhyun in way that is far too invasive for his liking. He tries not to focus on that. “Let’s backtrack. Someone must have put this spell on us. If we can remember what happened last night, we can probably figure out who did it, right?”

Minhyun grimaces. “The most obvious culprit would be one of us, wouldn’t it?” he ventures after a pause. Sparks fly off his fingers as they twitch and drum against his knees.

Seongwu can see the logic behind it, sort of. It seems a little too extreme for a prank, which means it must’ve been them, but for what reason? “But why would you want to—why would _I_ want to—”

Minhyun chuckles and rubs his face. “Asking that question will get us nowhere. We were pretty drunk.”

“Yeah, you’re right.” Ideally, the memories should come flooding back after he’s had some chance to recuperate, but he’s also not sure if he wants to remember. “What were you even doing here?” he asks after a bit. This is the last place he’d expect to find Minhyun. “You’re not even in this frat—or associated with them. Aren’t you in some Plant Appreciation organization?”

“That’s not a fraternity, it’s a horticulturist union.” Minhyun shakes his head, like he’s convinced Seongwu really is that hopeless. Seongwu isn’t sure if he should find that comforting or annoying. He settles on annoying.

“What the fuck is that.”

“Gardening. Flowers, little cherry tomatoes.” There’s a heavy pause, then Minhyun frowns and scratches his arm, turning his attention elsewhere. “I’m allowed to be wherever I want, you know.”

“Yeah, but…” _Not near me_. It’s an informal rule at this point. Minhyun usually hangs out with other wildseeds; they’re a community unto themselves on campus. Seongwu knows a few people who regularly attend the functions, which are of a different sort than these frat parties. Seongwu typically gives them a wide berth. “It just doesn’t seem like your scene.”

Minhyun opens his mouth to protest, indignation flaring up in his eyes, but it quickly fades away to resignation when he realizes he has no argument here. “It’s not; Jonghyun wanted to celebrate and knows one of the Gamma Omega brothers from dance club, so he—”

“Ah.” He nods knowingly. “Got roped into it?”

“Yes.” The lines of his mouth harden. “If I’d stayed home like I planned to, I could’ve caught up on my assignments for Hexology and avoided—”

“This.”

“ _Yes_ ,” Minhyun says again. Seongwu’s never heard anyone sound so dejected about not getting to do homework, but their current situation is probably worse than any class could be.

“Okay, so maybe it doesn’t matter who did this, but we do need to figure out how to undo it.” Seongwu stops pacing. “Breaking enchantments isn’t actually my strong suit—”

“Nor mine”

“—so we should find someone who is good at this.” There’s a whole campus full of powerful and capable magic users here. Someone has to know _something_ about how to get this spell off.

Minhyun’s eyebrows draw together as he stares at the floor. “Sungwoon?” he suggests finally, naming one of the grad students Seongwu is familiar with. “I’m sure I saw him here last night, and he’s definitely one of the best spellweavers on campus. He should have some ideas.”

In the absence of a better idea, Seongwu agrees.

They find Sungwoon in the kitchen in his underwear, glaring at a plate of eggs as if they’ve personally offended him. Seated next to him is Jongin with his own eggs and a piece of toast hanging from his mouth. No surprises there; Sungwoon and Jongin are always together. Seongwu wants to ask about that, but it is… not any of his business.

“These are under-seasoned,” he overhears Sungwoon complaining. “When you said you would cook me eggs in the morning, I kinda expected them to be good.”

“Your flavor palette is really off.” Jongin reaches forward to spear some eggs off Sungwoon’s plate. “It tastes fine.”

“How dare you. I am a _gastronome_ —” Sungwoon breaks off when he sees Minhyun and Seongwu approach. His eyes rake over them pensively, then zero in on their proximity. Close enough to touch, but not quite; they’re still working it out. “Huh,” he says, pushing his plate away. “This is an unusual pairing. I’m into it, though.”

Pairing. Seongwu grimaces. “We’re not together,” he asserts, at the same time as Minhyun says, “We need your help with something.”

Sungwoon raises an eyebrow and straightens up. “Yeah?”

Raising their hands in unison, Seongwu and Minhyun pour a little magic into their link, enough for the visible string to manifest again to remind them of their tie. Eyes widening, Sungwoon leans forward to get a closer look. “Oh,” he breathes.

Through a mouthful of toast, Jongin unhelpfully adds, “Magical handcuffs. Kinky.” Three sets of eyes turn to him in disbelief and irritation. “What? I’m not judging.”

Minhyun takes the reins when it comes to explaining what happens; he has a better rapport with Sungwoon than Seongwu does. Sungwoon was the TA for one of his classes, as he explained on the way over, and a “big help.” The only previous experience Seongwu has with Sungwoon is an unfortunate game of foot volleyball in which Seongwu’s team lost. So.

The explanation takes less time than Seongwu expects. “I thought you might have more experience with this type of thing,” Minhyun finishes, looking at Sungwoon imploringly. “We’d like to separate as soon as possible, so any help you can give…”

After silently absorbing the information, Sungwoon trades a quick look with Jongin, who immediately throws up his hands and says, “Don’t drag me into this. I’m just enjoying my breakfast.” He makes a big show of stuffing his mouth and turns away, leaving Sungwoon alone with the two.

Sighing, Sungwoon pinches the bridge of his nose. “This looks like a binding spell, but you probably worked that out already, huh?” Minhyun nods, and Sungwoon leans forward to send a surge of magic through the link. It heats up as the spell collides with it, burning the skin around both Minhyun and Seongwu’s wrists. They cry out together and Sungwoon quickly retreats with an apology. “This spell is a lot more powerful than I expected. It shouldn’t be, not without the proper rituals backing it, but—“

That doesn’t sound promising. Sungwoon is supposed to be their solution. “You can get it off, right?” Seongwu asks, unable to keep the tremor from his voice.

“I don’t know.” Sungwoon taps his chin, then frowns. “Not right now.”

“What.” Seongwu must have misheard.

“I don’t know,” Sungwoon repeats patiently. “It’s a complicated enchantment. Whoever cast it definitely knows their stuff. It’ll take me awhile to figure out how to break it. These are typically used for lifetime commitments, you know.”

Seongwu’s heart sinks. He sneaks a glance over at Minhyun, who looks as rattled as he feels. “What the _fuck_ do you mean by ‘a while’?” he growls out. The curse rips out of his mouth, raw and guttural. This is the first time Seongwu’s heard Minhyun swear; it doesn’t suit him.

“Took the words right out of my mouth,” Seongwu chimes in, but Minhyun shakes his head, his expression going from livid to stricken in the span of a few seconds.

“Wait, I’m sorry. That wasn’t me. That didn’t feel like—” He stops and wrings his hands. “I wasn’t even _angry_. It was like all of a sudden I was possessed by this strong feeling that didn't belong to me.”

Sungwoon doesn’t look offended. “Yeah, the thing is, that emotional response? Probably wasn’t you. It was part of the spell; it links the two of you physically, but emotionally as well. You’re literally sharing your feelings.”

“That doesn’t make any sense,” Seongwu interjects. Sure, he was feeling angry too, but that’s just a natural response? “Why would a spell do that?”

“People usually use this spell to bind familiars or demons to them.” Sungwoon pulls his plate back towards him and begins stabbing his eggs with unnatural gusto. He only stops when Jongin turns back and removes the fork from Sungwoon’s hands. “It allows you to siphon their magic; that’s the whole point. But you’re both human with the kind of magical energy that doesn’t transfer, so the spell substituted something else in its place.”

Seongwu is getting tired of all the bad news. _God_. As if being magically linked to Minhyun wasn’t enough, now he’s emotionally bonded to him too. “Why didn’t we feel this before?” It doesn’t have the same gravitas as being telepathically linked, but this is plenty awful on its own.

Sungwoon shrugs. “Because you were experiencing the same or similar emotions, I'm assuming? Hungover, confused, tired, ashamed, so on.”

His stomach churns unpleasantly. If this is a joke, it’s a very bad one, but Sungwoon’s face is absolutely serious. Worse, Jongin nods along with everything he says. Which means this is happening. “I have a stomachache,” Seongwu mutters.

Beside him, Minhyun grimaces and grips his stomach, keeling over. “Me too,” he gasps, gripping onto the counter for support. “Why?”

“Yeah, that’s my anxiety spiking.” Squeezing his eyes shut, Seongwu dives into the nebulous energy of the spell, sifting through the mass of emotions. They’re too intertwined for him to determine what belongs to whom. He thinks they share the frustration, the irritation, and probably some of the despair too. “Nice to know you’re not calm either.”

But beneath the confusing mess is tightly coiled ball of fear and self-doubt that feels distinctly Minhyun. It sits in the hollow of his chest where his heart should be. Seongwu wants to ask what he’s afraid of, but now is not the time or place. He glances over at meets Minhyun’s eyes; both immediately look away and awkwardness flares between them.

“Should we consult with a professor about this?” Minhyun asks finally; straightening up. He still looks pale but no longer on the verge of collapsing.

Sungwoon shakes his head. “It’s not worth it. Most likely you’ll get in trouble for using magic incorrectly and they’ll use the situation as a teaching moment by telling you to figure out a solution on your own. I’d advise against it. “

He makes a good point, but that leaves Seongwu with… no hope and no way out. His disappointment must show on his face, because Sungwoon hastens to add, “I’ll do some research, see if I can figure out how to break the binding spell without permanent damage.”

“Permanent damage?” Minhyun repeats faintly.

“In the meantime…” Sungwoon gives them the once over again, followed by a pitying smile. “Good luck.” He turns back to his breakfast, clearly done for now.

Minhyun is still repeating _permanent damage_ under his breath as Seongwu drags him away from the kitchen. Frazzled would probably be the best way to describe him: eyes wide, mouth pressed in a thin line, cheeks pink and blotchy, hair in a disarray. Clearly, he expected Sungwoon to fix this and can’t cope with the reality that there _is_ no easy fix here. He runs his hand through his hair again, mussing it up further. “Could this possibly get any worse?”

Someone lacks genre-savvy. Seongwu winces; he hates to be the bearer of bad news. “Actually, yeah. I need to take a piss.”

Minhyun groans. 

 

* * *

 

With the bathroom situation taken care of, they decide to head back to Seongwu’s apartment for the time being. He’s been living on his own since the beginning of the semester when Jaehwan moved out and his apartment is ideal for staying under the radar. Since neither of them want to try to explain the situation to Minhyun’s roommates, it makes more sense to stay there than Minhyun’s place.

On the way there, they broach the subject of what they’re supposed to do moving forward, or in Minhyun’s words, “work out the logistics of their situation.” Seongwu hates that word: _logistics_. He hates this is something they even need to discuss. Maybe he just hates everything about this situation, but at least Minhyun does too.

At the top of their agenda is figuring out what to about their schedules. They only have a couple of overlapping lectures on Monday-Wednesday, and Seongwu quickly agrees to skip his course to attend Minhyun’s on those days instead. All he does is fuck around in Intermediate Divination anyway. ‘Exploration of the Astral World’ sounds like the more interesting subject.

That settled, Seongwu finally ventures into the territory of Things Bothering Him, which are hopefully the same as Things Bothering Minhyun so he doesn’t feel like a complete dunce. “What do we tell people? About—” Seongwu gestures to the space between them. “This?”

The truth is embarrassing and convoluted. He’s not sure he wants the campus to know how badly he fucked up. Or how badly someone else fucked up. However you look at this, the whole thing reeks of carelessness and ineptitude. Seongwu knows Minhyun feels the same kind of mortification he does at the idea of the details of their situation getting out. In fact, it’s probably worse for him. Seongwu is smart but no magical prodigy. Minhyun, on the other hand, is touted as one. For him to be stumped by a problem like this is worse than embarrassing, it’s shameful.

They arrive at Seongwu’s apartment while Minhyun is still mulling the question over in his head. He’s methodical to Seongwu’s impulsive and takes his time with the answer. “We don’t tell them anything,” he says finally, rubbing his chin. “Let people come to their own conclusions.”

Seongwu nearly drops his keys. “You serious?” He can already imagine what kind of bullshit people are going to be thinking and it’s not pretty.

“It’ll only be for a week at most.” Minhyun sounds confident for someone who was losing his shit less than an hour ago. He’s surrounded himself with cautious optimism and a firm belief in Sungwoon’s ability to fix this, similar to wearing a suit of armour. Seongwu is probably the only one who’d be able to tell that underneath that is genuine concern and worry about _what if_ — It’s a truth Minhyun doesn’t seem to want to confront himself. “I don’t think it’ll be damaging.”

“Well, you’d be surprised; people are stupid.,” Seongwu grouses, but drops the subject. He doesn’t want to have to explain either, so this has to be good enough for now.

“More importantly,” Minhyun begins, as the door to Seongwu’s apartment creaks open in slow motion, taking its cue from a C rated 60s slasher flick, “your apartment is _filthy_.” His horror is palpable even without the link—and deservedly so. Seongwu’s living room looks like a dangerous swamp out of the same 60s slasher flick, to continue with the metaphor. Shuddering at the sight, Minhyun gingerly steps over a pile of crusty clothes and purposely avoids looking at the boxes of half-eaten take out food arranged on the ground in a pentagram.

Seongwu shuts the door behind them and deftly avoids sending a can of stale beer flying across the room. “Yeah, well, I didn’t know I was going to have company or I would’ve cleaned up.” The pentagram thing was supposed to be a joke, but finding the humor in it now is a lot more difficult than when he was pregaming yesterday.

“Do you only clean up when you’re going to host?”

“Pretty much.” He shoots Minhyun a cheeky grin and double finger pistols. “I live in filth.”

Minhyun’s horror gives way to disgust. This is probably a preview of how the bulk of this arrangement is going to go, and he only hopes Sungwoon can find a solution for them fast. But jokes about dirty living aside, Seongwu does want the shower he’s been desperately dreaming of since he woke up. He needs to wash the ache and regret from his bones and feel like a normal human being again. Only then can he—potentially—think about cleaning up.

That poses a different problem. Seongwu is uncertain about how this will work. His bathroom is big enough for two, but the last thing he wants is to get naked and steamy with Minhyun. People would kill for this opportunity and yet all he can do is lament the loss of his privacy.

Minhyun is less than pleased the prospect of bathing with Seongwu as well; dread creeps into their link from his side as he stares at the bathroom door with a heavy dose of suspicion. It morphs into alarm as Seongwu hands him a clean towel and a bag of travel-sized toiletries.

“Don’t worry, I washed it,” Seongwu assures him. He may be a slob, but some things you just don’t mess around with. “Uh, I’m sure you have your own shower and skincare routine, but this should do for now.”

“Thanks,” Minhyun says, examining the towel closely. “So do you want me to strip?” His voice drips with amusement as he tucks the supplies under his arm, but underneath it is anxiety, of a sort. “Was all this just part of your plan to get me naked?”

“What? No. That’s a little too diabolical even for me.” Sure, it’s one way to put the moves on someone, but not his goal here. Or ever. “I was thinking one of us could hop in the shower while the other waits on the other side of the curtain, and then we switch? I don’t think we can wait outside with the… spell and all.”

He expects Minhyun to refuse immediately, but after a moment of deliberation, he shrugs. “That works for me.” It’s not like he can say no either. Short of not bathing the whole time they’re bound together, they have no other option.

After a game of rock-paper-scissors, Seongwu goes in first, still fully clothed. He only strips down once the shower curtain is firmly in place between him and Minhyun to hide his body from view. Though he peeks his head out to make sure his wad of clothes don’t hit Minhyun as he tosses them under the sink. Minhyun has no such qualms about privacy; he easily undresses down to his boxers and stands there hugging his arms close to his body.

Seongwu can’t help but stare just a little bit. Minhyun is attractive. He has a nice body—toned, muscular, with good proportions and a handsome face. Even with his fatigue and wild hair, he looks like he stepped out of the pages of a trashy romance novel. Seongwu, meanwhile, has always been attractive in parts: he has beautiful hands, and his face is charming, like the three moles on his face are charming, but whereas Minhyun has a fae-like, regal beauty, Seongwu is scrappily handsome. Earthly.

 _Man_. Way to feel bad about himself.

He pushes such thoughts of out his head. Steam fills the bathroom as he turns the water to hot, just a few degrees shy of scalding. It soothes his muscles and Seongwu allows himself a few moments to bask in the shower as he lathers up before rising off and reaching for the shampoo.

“We could shower together,” Minhyun breaks the silence after a few minutes, raising his voice to be heard above the water.

The bottle of shampoo slips from Seongwu’s hands. “What.” He recovers it and sticks his head out the curtain. “You’re joking.”

“It would save time and preserve water,” Minhyun continues, completely straight faced, but Seongwu can almost hear his internal laughter through the link and forces his heart to calm down. It’s just a bad joke, Minhyun’s shaky attempt to diffuse some of tension between them.

“I can tell you’re kidding,” he says tersely, and Minhyun finally laughs out loud, the sound ringing clear in his ears in spite of the water. “But no thanks.”

Minhyun’s laughter subsides after a few moments, and silence settles in between them again. Clearing his throat, Minhyun shifts and adds, as lightly as possible, “I’m not going to attack you in the nude or anything.”

“No, that’s not—” Seongwu never thought he’d have to justify not wanting to shower with Minhyun, but he also never thought he’d be in any position to shower with Minhyun, period. “Not all of us are confident with our bodies.” He hopes Minhyun can’t detect the envy behind his statement. Envy isn’t accurate, anyway; it’s more an appreciation of Minhyun and everything he has (which Seongwu doesn’t). “Do you work out?”

“Yeah, my roommates spend a lot of time at the gym these days.” Minhyun’s silhouette is just barely visible through the duck patterned plastic curtain. Momentarily distracted, Seongwu watches Minhyun stretch his arms above his head, then gently probe the bruised skin of his neck and wince. “How about you?”

Wait. _Focus_. He returns his attention to washing his hair. “I went to the running track last semester.”

“How often?”

“Once.” He could lie, but what’s the point? Minhyun would probably be able to sense it.

Seongwu hears Minhyun chuckle in disbelief. “How do you stay in shape?” He sounds both exasperated and annoyed, which is a combination Seongwu hears directed at him fairly often.

“My DNA has gifted me with everything, not just a pretty face.” Turning the water off, he reaches out for his towel and fixes it around his waist before pulling the curtain back to find Minhyun looking at him, cheeks flush, droplets of water sticking to his skin. “I’m kidding; my narcissism has its bounds.”

“You’re handsome,” Minhyun says softly, and perhaps it’s the steam or the proximity or the sheer intimacy of their situation, but Seongwu freezes as Minhyun reaches out, fingertips brushing against his jaw, before pulling back and shaking his head. He looks conflicted and a little embarrassed, though he keeps his tone casual. “Your narcissism is well deserved.”

“I’m touched.” They trade places. Minhyun showers in cold water while Seongwu dries his hair with a spell. The heat under his skin is from the shower and definitely not from the vaguely homoerotic moment he just shared with Minhyun. It was just a compliment, he reminds himself. Minhyun was probably trying to be kind because he is kind, and reading too much into it will do nothing for him except make this whole thing more uncomfortable than it already is.

He slips his clothes on, surrounding himself with a spell to keep the air dry. A few minutes pass before Minhyun picks up the conversation, his discomfort with the oppressive nature of the silence intensifying through the bond. “I guess this means I’ll be skipping my workouts for the next while.”

“You can still go. I’ll… stand next to you and admire.” Seongwu can be a one-man cheerleader. He’s good at that—the one-man talents, not the cheerleading part.

“Or you could lift something.”

“Or I _couldn’t_.” Who goes go the gym to work out, anyway? Aside from Minhyun and his roommates, and like half the world. Yikes. Maybe it’s just him with the aversion.

Minhyun laughs. “You’ve always hated exercise, huh?” he asks.

Not always. “I biked to school in high school!”

“And you were panting by the time we reached the school gates,” Minhyun shoots back. Seongwu momentarily forgot that used to be a two-person activity. In fact, the only reason he made it a part of his morning routine was so that he could accompany Minhyun in the whole green initiative thing. It was pure torture, but he liked coming to school with Minhyun and wasn’t willing to give up their mornings together.

He huffs and crosses his arms over his chest. “That’s because I lived further from the school than you did.”

“We lived two houses apart.”

“And my house was _further_.”

“I was proud of you.” There’s fondness in Minhyun’s voice, and an underlying feeling of genuine warmth and nostalgia. He speaks of the memory like it was a good one, free of the baggage they’ve accumulated since then. Seongwu blinks and rubs his arms, his mouth thin. He remembers—he remembers it really well, and it’s just weird to think Minhyun does to. To think that Minhyun maybe thinks about him. “No one thought you could do it, but you did. There was even a bet going and that you wouldn’t last two weeks.”

“And?” He has to force the word out past the sudden lump in his throat.

Minhyun pops his head out. “I bet in favor of you and won money?” His hair falls over his eyes and he slicks it back with soapy hands, then curses under his breath when some of the soap enters his eyes. “Sh—”

Oh fuck. Seongwu’s eye stings as well. Nice to know pain is transferable too. “Thanks for believing in me, I guess,” he says dryly. “Now please wash out your eye.”

“Aye aye, captain.”

Once Minhyun finishes and up and gets dressed, they decide to drop by his place to pick up his things for however long this cohabitation is going to last. Walking is a little bit of an adjustment; they stay pressed close together to be on the safe side. Their ungainly stumbling elicits a puzzled reaction from Minki when they run into him while trying to escape with Minhyun’s stuff, and Seongwu quickly uses the excuse of working on a complicated project together as a reason for the temporary living situation, then books it before Minki can point out they share zero classes together.

Back at Seongwu’s place, they order a pizza for dinner and Seongwu tries to keep out of Minhyun’s way as he unpacks. He wants nothing more than to nap, but Minhyun forces him to clean up around the apartment after that, an ordeal which lasts hours and makes Seongwu cry twice (or thrice. No more than five times). But he figures he should do something to make this space more comfortable for Minhyun, even if it does mean back breaking work.

When night falls, Minhyun takes the floor next to Seongwu’s bed. Logically, Seongwu knows he should probably offer to let Minhyun share the bed, but they haven’t slept together since middle school and there are certain lines he doesn’t want to cross. Showering together is pushing it as it is, and this is—too much for two guys who aren’t supposed to like each other. He still hasn’t worked any of that out, nor does he feel like now is the time. So Seongwu gives him as many blankets as he can find and the fluffiest pillow from his bed in something like an apology.

This isn’t meant to last forever, anyway. His guilt is unfounded. Still, he almost makes an excuse, apologizes, says _something_ before shaking his head and crawling under his covers, then doesn't. Minhyun can probably tell, anyway. “Goodnight, Minhyun.”

“Goodnight.”

 

* * *

 

Minhyun assumed they’d be tied together for a week, maximum, but seven days in and they are still linked. Worse, Seongwu has started to get _used_ to his other half.

Of course, there are a ton of adjustments to be made. He hasn’t fully settled into his new lifestyle, but things are growing more familiar now. Less jarring. For one, he no longer gets surprised by the sight of Minhyun’s sleeping form on the floor in the mornings. Navigating within the enchantment’s boundaries has become a lot easier too; they’ve only fucked up and been punished for it one or twice since the first day. Perhaps the hardest thing to deal with is going to classes for two now, which means a lot of studying and a lot of homework. As a result, Seongwu gets tired more easily than normal these days, or maybe Minhyun’s exhaustion is compounding his own.

(Because that is a different problem).

Otherwise, Minhyun and Seongwu try to keep as much of a polite distance as they can with each other. It’s bad enough having to spend every waking hour together. Minhyun’s constant presence is something Seongwu just can’t escape from (and vice versa). They’re both conscious of not doing anything to make it worse. No invasive conversations, no unnecessary touching, and nothing that crosses The Boundary into their respective personal bubbles.

However, it’s tough to draw a line—and remain behind it—when they’re emotionally linked. Thankfully, things aren’t as bad as they were initially. Seongwu has gotten pretty good at figuring out which emotional responses are his and which are Minhyun’s over the past week. Sometimes the feelings tangle up together in a complicated knot, but he can still usually trace each sentiment back to whomever it originates from.

Minhyun is better at controlling his feelings, though. He filters what comes through the bond, amplifies certain emotions and holds others back. Seongwu’s feelings, meanwhile, spill all over the place like an overflowing cup. He envies Minhyun for his control, but there are benefits to knowing your own emotions as well. Most of the time.

Fewer people have pointed out their closeness than Seongwu feared. At a school where weird shit happens all the time, he supposes their sudden friendliness isn’t suspicious. Compared to the freshman who got trapped in an arranged marriage with some demon lord, a couple of guys suddenly attached at the hip is nothing.

They get looks mainly when they hold hands going to class, but it’s a self preservation thing. Can’t risk getting separated in the crush of the busy hallways. It’s Seongwu’s one concession to the ‘personal space’ rule out of a desire to avoid a painful reminder of their bond. There’s something warm and comforting about Minhyun’s palm slotted neatly in his, even if the reason for it is as banal as that. But this is one emotion Seongwu can’t discern the source of—not that he tries. Maybe it’s enough to just accept it without questioning. Enjoy it while you can, and all that.

The only person who takes an excessive amount of interest in their arrangement is Jaehwan. Or, he’s the only one who is blatant about his interest and doesn’t hesitate to corner him in the library first chance he gets. Seongwu prefers studying at home, but Minhyun likes the ‘ambiance’ here, whatever that means. The ambiance comes with exposure, and Seongwu can’t stop Jaehwan from plonking himself down in the seat across from him, eyes sparkling. “Hi guys. Are you busy? You don’t look busy.”

“We’re busy,” Seongwu says, ignoring the fact that his books are currently closed and he’s playing Rune Match on his phone. Meanwhile, Minhyun is seated beside him with his headphones in, deep in the embrace of complicated notes and diagrams. He briefly raises his head to acknowledge Jaehwan with a nod before returning to his studying.

Jaehwan returns the nod and looks to Seongwu with the biggest, most terrifying shit eating grin on his face. “Okay, _you’re_ not busy, but you’re the one I want to talk to anyway.” Seongwu wants to protest that he’s quite busy with Rune Match, but sometimes it’s easier to give up with Jaehwan. “So. When were you going to tell me about Mr. Silver Fox here?”

“Uh.” What. “I really don’t think that means what you think it does.”

Jaehwan is undeterred. “Seriously, since when are the two of you together?” Seongwu doesn’t want to answer this question. “By the way,” Jaehwan continues, a hint of petulance creeping into his voice. “It’s unfair that the two best looking guys on campus are hooking up. Way to crush the dreams of us ordinary peasants.”

“You’re dating _Daniel_ ,” Seongwu says, scandalized. “What dreams are you talking about? You shouldn’t be having dreams.”

Jaehwan looks at him pityingly. “Minhyun is on my three list, dude.”

“What is—nevermind. I don’t want to know.” He feels a headache coming on and temporarily abandons Rune Match to massage his temples. “Anyway, we’re not hooking up. We’re…” Seongwu throws a sidelong glance at Minhyun, who is blissfully unaware of this conversation. Even digging into their link, all Seongwu gets from him is concentration and some uncertainty about his answers to the practice questions. “We’re… together?”

“Ohhhh.” Jaehwan’s eyes light up. “So it’s serious.”

“Yes.” A Seriously Big Problem. “Wait, no—don’t spread this around.” This is a bad conclusion. This is the worst conclusion. This is _exactly_ what Seongwu was dreading. “Don’t you dare, Jaehwan.”

“Too late.” Jaehwan cackles, clapping his hands together. “I’m telling the world.” Seongwu suppresses a groan; when Jaehwan says he’s going to do something, he usually ends up following through. But while he imagines Jaehwan screaming from the rooftop or something similarly dramatic, Jaehwan’s expression softens and he reaches forward to pat Seongwu’s arm with a smile. “I’m happy for you, you know?” He looks like he’s going to continue, then stops, his smile deepening. “You deserve to meet someone nice and have _mindblowing_ sex—”

“Jaehwan, I swear—”

Minhyun finally unplugs his earphones, picking up on Seongwu’s distress. “Everything okay?" he asks, looking from Jaehwan to Seongwu with concern.

“Nothing!” Jaehwan says quickly, pushing his chair back and standing up. He winks at Seongwu before saying, “You’re a lucky man, Hwang Minhyun.” With a two fingered salute, Jaehwan wanders off whistling a cheery tone while Minhyun watches him go with a puzzled expression.

“He thinks we’re dating,” Seongwu says once Jaehwan is out of earshot. He expects… a jolt of surprise or something from Minhyun, but he’s remarkably even tempered.

“I’ve gotten that out of a few people as well,” he says cautiously.

“And you denied it?”

Minhyun hesitates. “It seemed easier to let them believe what they want to.” He pulls his books closer and idly flips through the pages, tapping his pencil against the table with his other hand. “Do you hate me that much? Like the thought of being tied to me?” He’s joking, maybe. His tone is light, airy, unconcerned, but Seongwu feels the uncertainty press against him through the link. Regret. A hint of bitterness, a dull ache, like a scab that never healed right.

“I… don’t hate you.” It’s the closest they’ve come to approaching the ruins of their friendship, to acknowledging that there is something there, or was. They’ve thus far avoided talking about the past or what happened aside from brief moments of reminiscence, and frankly, Seongwu doesn’t know if he _wants_ to talk about it now. He doesn’t know what he’d say or where it would leave them. It seems easier to never mention it, but that’s not exactly a healthy way to move on or anything.

He wonders why Minhyun would ever think Seongwu hated him. He never has. He doesn’t think he’s capable of it. What do you even find to hate about Minhyun? Seongwu clears his throat and continues, “I just thought, you know, it’d be lame for you to be linked to me.” Lame, scarring, awful, etcetera. Maybe it was a stupid worry, but there’s just—a lot there. “In case you liked someone… romantically... or something. Wouldn’t want them to get the wrong idea.”

Minhyun doesn’t say anything, just continues to flip through his book. Relief overpowers him, and by extension, Seongwu. “Right,” he says finally, faintly, then looks up with a wry smile. “We’re safe on that front, I think. The last person I liked didn’t… like me back, so it’s a non issue.”

“Good—wait, what?” It takes Seongwu a moment to process, and when he does, his jaw drops. Someone not liking Minhyun back? Sounds impossible. It is impossible. Seongwu squints at the man suspiciously, but he doesn’t get any sense of a lie from Minhyun. “I’m sorry, man. Whoever this person is—they’re an idiot.”

Minhyun eyes him, then sighs and shakes his head. “He often is,” he says, slamming his book shut, but he doesn’t want to go further than that. “You want to grab burgers for dinner?”

“Sure?” The subject change is abrupt, but Seongwu has enough self-awareness not to push it. He pushes his chair back and grabs his bag, leaning over to get a look at Minhyun’s practice test. “ By the way, you got number three and five wrong,” he points out.

Minhyun pauses while cleaning up and scrambles to double check the answers. “Dammit—“

Seongwu pats him on the back, still wondering who would have the audacity to not like Minhyun back. “I’ll help you with it after dinner.”

 

* * *

 

Their brief conversation is far from a heart-to-heart, but it does help ease things between them to some degree. Minhyun is less stiff around Seongwu for the rest of the week, a little more relaxed than he was previously. He talks more these days, transporting Seongwu back to high school. Minhyun’s always been the more chatty of the two. Even if he isn’t a hundred percent comfortable with Seongwu, this is progress, and though it takes some getting used to, Seongwu is happy to sink back into familiar habits. He missed this side of Minhyun. Besides, he likes making Minhyun laugh, which is another thing he does more often now.

Seongwu is still confused by the fact that Minhyun genuinely thought he hated him. The realization that Minhyun has the same kind of anxieties Seongwu does is a little surreal. He’s someone whom Seongwu would expect not to worry about these kinds of things; Minhyun gives off a feeling of unflappability, outwardly composed in the most dire of situations. Seongwu knows it isn’t true now—Minhyun is just as much of a mess as Seongwu is, just better at hiding it. Good thing he can’t hide anything from Seongwu at the moment. As inconvenient as it is, it helps too.

Minhyun seems more interested in spending time with Seongwu as well, not because he’s forced to, but because he wants to. At least, that’s the impression Seongwu gets when Minhyun invites (or drags, depending how you look at it) him to his club meeting. It used to work the other way around in high school: Seongwu would force Minhyun to join his group-of-the-week, and Minhyun would end up being the one who stuck with it till the end while Seongwu flit to a different interest. So Seongwu can’t even complain; this is payback.

He fully expects to be bored out of his fucking mind at plant club, but this isn’t your mama’s garden. His first impression of the greenhouse where the St. Gregory’s Horticulturist Union meets biweekly is: _what the fuck._

Vines hang from the ceiling like a thick curtain. Most curl away from Seongwu as the gingerly pushes them aside, but a few wrap around his ankles and don’t let go until Minhyun shoos them away with a spell. The rest of the greenhouse is impressive as well. Overgrown plants in all manner of vibrant colors surround them. Some are large and have… teeth…? The one near Seongwu’s head definitely snapped at him for a second there.

“These are not cherry tomatoes.” Seongwu can’t see a single normal plant-like thing here and it is freaking him out.

“No. That flower is poisonous,” Minhyun adds swiftly, batting Seongwu’s hand away from the red flower he was about to touch. It’s probably safer not to touch anything here, and Seongwu tucks his hands into his pockets with a frown. “This year, we’re breeding experimental carnivorous plants.”

The question here is _why_ , but all he can manage to say is, “You’re a monster.”

Before Minhyun has a chance to respond, one of the club members emerges from behind a bunch of foliage and calls out to Minhyun. “Oi, Hwang!” He’s a hulking dude, about Seongwu’s height, with dirt streaked across his face. But it doesn’t hide his bright smile, nor does it draw attention away from the muscles threatening to burst out of his tight shirt and apron. “You’re late.” Despite the admonition, he has nothing but warmth for Minhyun as he claps him on the back before pulling him into a one armed hug. “Got a new recruit for us?” he asks, eyes falling on Seongwu.

“Dongho. You’re filthy. Did you and Minki have a dirt fight again? Don't tell me you got into the fertalizer.” Much like the man—Dongho—Minhyun’s voice is filled with affection in spite of his harsh words. He swipes his thumb over the streak of dirt, then returns the hug with a grin before gesturing to Seongwu. “This is my…” Hesitating, he looks over and presses his lips together. “ _Friend_ , Seongwu. He’s in the astronomy club already, but he was interested in what we do here.”

“I wasn’t, actually,” Seongwu interjects, shaking Dongho’s proffered hand. “But now I am. I didn’t know you guys were trying to bring the Swamp Thing to life here.”

A pit forms in his stomach as he looks from Minhyun to Dongho, and it takes effort to keep his tone light and humorous. He doesn’t need the link to know how overjoyed Minhyun is to see Dongho; the emotions pour through, of course, but his body language says enough on its own. The way Minhyun seems to lean in towards Dongho when he speaks, the twinkle in his eye, the relaxed posture and easy smiles he trades with the man are all an obvious departure from his behavior with literally anyone else.

For some reason, it _bothers_ Seongwu. The tightness in his chest grows stronger with each passing second until Minhyun’s searching eyes turn to him and he frantically forces the knot in his stomach to dissipate.

“This probably looks like something out of comic book, yeah?” Dongho rolls his sleeves up as he talks, revealing an impressive set of tattoos. “But all this is just part of a research study we’re doing on the side—the club focuses mainly on normal stuff, like the recent campus beautiful project we finished up last month.”

“Oh, really? Impressive.” Seongwu’s inner competitiveness flares up. “The astronomy club hosted a conference about the theoretical applications of magic in space just last month too.”

“That’s amazing. Good for you guys.” Dongho looks sufficiently impressed and Seongwu is pleased with himself until Minhyun coughs into his hand—which sounds suspiciously like a laugh, when Seongwu thinks about it, as if he finds Seongwu’s efforts to one-up Dongho hilarious. It is pretty funny, especially since Seongwu has no reason to compete with the man anyway—

“I’m going to show Seongwu around, alright?” Minhyun cuts across his thoughts, a smile still dancing on his lips. Dongho waves them off with his blessing and returns to his plant friends. Seongwu barely gets _a nice meeting you_ in before Minhyun drags him over to the other side of the greenhouse to begin his grand tour. For a brief moment, Seongwu thinks ‘tour’ means something else, but no, Minhyun genuinely wants to show him around.

It’s too bad his attention is elsewhere. Seongwu tries to listen as Minhyun chatters on about different types of plants, their diets, and their uses, but his mind is still on Dongho and his easy smiles, on the way Minhyun looks at him, on the sight of his fingers touching Dongho’s cheek—

He’s completely distracted as they pass by the vicious plants sections and ends up wandering too close to one of them, a hulking maroon blossom with sharks’ teeth. Lighting quick, it darts out and sinks its teeth into Seongwu’s forearm, and he yelps as it breaks skin. Minhyun wrestles it back, flashing spell after spell until it closes its maw and shrinks back to a deceptively docile looking flower.

With the threat gone, Seongwu gingerly examines his aching arm. The bite marks are deep and gushing blood; it travels down his arm and spills onto the floor in rivulets. “I’m okay,” he says, sending Minhyun’s alarm through the bond. “As long as it’s not poisonous, I’m good.” He mutters a quick spell go close up the wounds and stop the bleeding, but it’s a slapdash job and does little for the pain. The area around the bite feels like it’s throbbing.

Though he winces at even the slightest bit of movement of his arm, Seongwu insists on finishing the tour. Minhyun reluctantly continues, but keeps looking back at Seongwu to make sure he’s okay. Eventually, he gives up and pulls him outside, ignoring Seongwu protests of “I’m fine!” His reassuring smiles need some work.

The air is crisp outside, carrying just the slightest nip to it. Seongwu breathes in a lungful as Minhyun leads him to one of the benches near the lake. “Are you sure you’re okay?” he asks as they take a seat, his eyes heavy with concern.

Seongwu fights the urge to whine and gives him a strained smile instead. “Yeah, I’m good.”

Minhyun stares at him for a long moment, then sighs. “I can tell you’re lying,” he says disapprovingly. As if to remind Seongwu, the space between them grows warm, the silvery string of magic tying them together flashing once before fading back into invisibility. “I can feel it too.” Minhyun rubs his own foreman—precisely where Seongwu got bit—and grimaces. “It’s alright to admit you’re hurt.”

“ _Ha_.” His only response to that is a pointed laugh. Seongwu is not a fan of showing weakness. What does it matter, anyway?

“You’ve always been like this,” Minhyun continues. He takes Seongwu’s arm into his lap, and Seongwu doesn’t protest as Minhyun’s fingers run over the barely healed skin. There’s no finesse to Seongwu’s healing spell; he didn’t bother putting thought into it, just searched for a quick way to stop the bleeding. Minhyun is slower with his magic, more careful, and his spell runs over Seongwu’s wound like a soothing balm. “Pretending to be fine when you’re not. What does that do for you?”

“I—” He doesn’t really know how to respond. Seongwu takes his arm back and inspects Minhyun’s handiwork. The bite marks are still faintly present against his pale skin, but they’re no longer the irritated red of a couple of minutes ago, and he finds that the pain is almost entirely gone. Minhyun’s spellwork is clearly superior. Or maybe he’s just good at this in general; this isn’t the first time Minhyun helped bandage him up. “I hate that you know this about me,” he says finally. It’s not an answer. He’s just—unsure why Minhyun still seems to be able to call him out on his bullshit. “I hate that you have a really good memory.” Seongwu laughs, as if that mitigates the force of his words.

“I thought I’d hate it too,” Minhyun replies after a drawn out pause, tucking his hands into his pockets and staring out at the lake. He sighs and shakes his head, a rueful smile crawling onto his face. “But I think I’m grateful for it instead. I mean, I _do_ remember you telling me to take care of the unpleasant stuff for you—”

“My disgusting injury in the line of battle qualifies, I guess.”

Minhyun laughs, a throaty sound that comes right from the heart. “And it’s not like our memories together are bad; most of them are good.” Laughter fading, he continues to stare out at the lake before saying, more quietly, “You were my best friend.”

 _So what happened to us?_ Seongwu wants to ask. The question rests on the tip of his tongue, and maybe Minhyun knows where the sudden spike of anxiety and anticipation is coming from because he tenses up, his lips pressing into a thin line as he hunches forward. And Seongwu is still somewhat of a coward who doesn’t want to deal with weakness or vulnerability or anything difficult, uncomfortable, anything that can send discomfort crawling under his skin—so he opts for a different question instead. “So what you’re saying is if you had to be tied to someone because of a freak spell, you’re glad it was me right?”

“I wouldn’t go that far,” Minhyun relaxes, chuckling as he stretches his legs out.

“Not everyone would get eaten by a plant for you.”

Minhyun doesn’t reply for a long moment, before he turns to Seongwu with an unreadable expression. His feelings are tightly protected and Seongwu can’t sense anything pouring into their link from him except—just comfort, comfort in this moment. “You, Ong Seongwu, are one of a kind.”

It doesn’t— _shouldn’t_ —mean much, but Seongwu’s heart speeds up, his cheeks faintly flush in the autumn air. “Of course I am.” After a beat, he adds, “Thanks.”

If Minhyun can tell what he’s feeling, he doesn’t say anything, just leans his shoulder against Seongwu’s as they watch the waves ripple across the surface of the lake.

 

* * *

 

Two weeks into their forced bonding and Seongwu is worried.

He started to worry a long time ago, to be honest. Minhyun’s optimism and faith in Sungwoon gave him the illusion of things turning out alright in the end, but the whole situation is starting to look bleak now. Nobody actually expects a freak enchantment to last a ‘lifetime,’ and what seemed funny (well, marginally) before no longer does now that a ‘lifetime’ is starting to look like reality. Or, you know, he’s feeling melodramatic and two weeks feels like an _age_. It’s wearing on them; dealing with the anxieties of two people is tough.

Minhyun periodically checks in with Sungwoon about how research into breaking their enchantment is going, but he hasn’t heard from Sungwoon in a while. He’s convinced Sungwoon is screening his calls, but Seongwu thinks that’s probably going a bit too far. Regardless, he agrees to call Sungwoon in Minhyun’s stead. _Eventually_ , he says, because who the heck calls people on the phone, but the idea of talking to Sungwoon also makes him a tad nervous.

He finally does dial Sungwoon when Minhyun is asleep, having passed out while studying. Seongwu isn’t sure why he’s reluctant to talk to Sungwoon in front of him. Of course Minhyun needs to hear what Sungwoon says anyway—they’re in this together. But at the same time, he wants to ask Sungwoon if maybe—but that’s a stupid invasive thought. He wants this enchantment gone. He _definitely_ wants this enchantment gone and to return to normal life. If normal life happens to be sans Minhyun, that’s just how things are. Status quo and all.

Sungwoon picks up on the fifth ring. “You have five minutes,” he says in lieu of greeting, before Seongwu can get a word in. “I’m busy.”

“It’s Seongwu?”

“I know.”

“Just making sure.” He forget about caller id for a second then. This probably isn’t the best time to bring this up, but he’s here already, so might as well. “How goes uh, the research into our case? Breaking that binding spell and everything?” Seongwu tries to sound as nonchalant as possible but he’s not sure he’s succeeding. “Because it’s, semi-urgent, and I think we’ve started to share dreams and my dreams are sort of R-rated, so—”

“Here’s the thing.” Sungwoon interrupts him before he has a chance to really get going. “I haven’t been working on your situation.”

Of all things, he didn’t actually expect to hear that. “What.”

“I am in a high stress situation,” Sungwoon grinds out. He sounds it, Seongwu thinks. “The demon I summoned is only bound to this earth for the next three days and I’m working 24/7 to get as much information out of him as I can. I don’t have time for you guys right now.”

“Uh, okay, but what about _us_?“ Sungwoon is supposed to be their savior. He’s supposed to help them.

“Listen.” Sungwoon, despite his short fuse, sounds genuinely apologetic. “My report is due Sunday. I just need to survive that and I can go back to looking into your case.”

“So… a week more? A week and a half?” He waits for the stab of disappointment to hit him as the reality of the situation sinks in, but nothing of the sort sweeps over him. Instead, a strange and perverse sense of relief settles in his bones when he realizes that this arrangement is going to last longer. The feeling is both baffling and irritating. He shouldn’t feel this way, and yet—

“Something like that,” Sungwoon sighs. He can hear some crinkling in the background, and then the sound of Jongin’s voice yelling something indistinguishable. “Just hang in there, guys, alright?” He still sounds apologetic as he hangs up and slips in another promise to sort this out when he’s free.

Seongwu slips his phone back in his pocket and exhales softly. He feels a twinge of guilt; why the hell would he want this to last longer? Hasn’t he been railing against this link for the last couple of weeks? But the answer is obvious. It’s in Minhyun’s sleeping face, lips parted, his legs hanging awkwardly off the couch. He doesn’t want to lose Minhyun’s company. That’s the reason part of him wants their arrangement to endure, even though it’s not feasible. Once they’re free of each other’s company, will they go back to not talking, or are they something else now, akin to friends?

He’s scared of asking.

Minhyun wakes up in half an hour later and asks Seongwu how the conversation went. “I think I have an idea,” he says dryly, before Seongwu can even begin speaking. His impulses are correct and he tries to reign in his emotions as much as he can while Seongwu relays the bad news. Still, Minhyun can’t keep his face from visibly falling once he hears how long it’s going to take for Sungwoon to tackle this.

“I was looking forward to sleeping in my own bed soon,” Minhyun says, running a hand through his already messy hair. “And _cooking_. I miss eating actual food.” They’ve been living on take-out since Seongwu’s kitchen hasn’t been used since the dark ages. Not because he can’t cook, but—

“Hey,” he says suddenly. Seongwu can’t do anything about the enchantment, but he can do something about this issue. “I have a kitchen. I can cook.” Minhyun looks skeptical until Seongwu forces himself off the couch, still rubbing his bleary eyes, and unearths a couple of aprons from a cabinet he hasn’t opened in months. “See! I have cooking implements.”

“There is a layer of dust on this.”

“Okay, but I _own_  stuff. I should get points for that.”

Minhyun doesn’t look entirely convinced, but accepts the proffered apron and puts it on. He’s willing to give it a shot as a thought experiment, at least. After some deliberation, they decide on making some _japchae_ , but Seongwu has no ingredients on hand. Luckily, they’re able to beg almost everything from his neighbour, a sweet old lady who regales them with stories about her dead husband and pinches Seongwu’s cheeks until his face is red.

Depiste this being Seongwu's kitchen, Minhyun is more at home here than Seongwu is, despite this being a part of Seongwu’s house. Compared to Minhyun’s assured movements and easy grace, Seongwu feels like a bumbling giant. He mostly tries to fetch things and otherwise stay out of Minhyun’s way (claiming Seongwu knows how to cook is an exaggeration; he can mostly just make enough to subsist on).

Meanwhile, Minhyun hums under his breath as he chops the veggies and Seongwu is struck by how _pretty_ his voice is. He’s never really heard Minhyun sing before, and this habit is a new one. “What song is that? It’s nice.”

“This?” Minhyun doesn’t look up; his knife work is surprisingly skillful. “Oh, it’s a song Dongho’s been working on.”

The name again. The beefy guy with the tattoos and the surprisingly endearing smile that Minhyun looked half in love with. He likes to garden and is apparently musically gifted too? Seongwu likes Dongho, sort of, but he can’t stop himself from being annoyed at the mention of the name, or the way Minhyun’s expression softens when he mentions him.

Seongwu wonders, briefly, if Dongho is the one Minhyun liked, the person who didn’t like him back. But they seem close even now, and Minhyun gave the impression that he and… whoever that person was weren’t on good terms. Still, he feels like there must be something there.

“Seongwu, the egg is—”

“I got it.” Fuck Dongho, he decides. Or the concept of Dongho. He has nothing against the dude, but the last thing Seongwu wants is to be fretting over him and his possible relationship with Minhyun. He doesn’t want this pit in his stomach, this burning in his lungs when he thinks of the two of them together.

“Is everything okay?” Frowning, Minhyun pauses and leans against the counter, arms crossed over his chest.

“Yeah, yeah.” The denial rings hollow in both their ears. Minhyun can obviously tell something is bothering him here, if not what the cause exactly is. Seongwu bites his lip hard enough to draw blood and squeezes his eyes shut. _Fine_ , fuck it. “So, is Dongho like… your best friend?”

“Um.” Minhyun freezes, his eyes widening for a brief second before he schools his expression back into something more composes. “In a way?” He tilts his head to the side. “He’s the first person I really spoke to when I came here, and… I guess, yeah, you could say he’s my best friend. I’m not sure what I’d do without him.”

“Ah.” That’s to be expected.

“Are you…” Minhyun doesn’t say it, but they both know what he wants to ask: _jealous_? It’s there in their link, a bloated, ugly emotion. As much as Seongwu doesn’t want to acknowledge it belongs to him, it feels like him. Tastes like him, if there was such a thing—like bitter coffee.

The thing is, Minhyun’s always made friends easier than Seongwu has; he attracts others to him like moths and makes lasting connections with ease. Even as a wildseed witch, he’s is surrounded by people who genuinely care about his well being and about him as person. Somewhat perplexingly, Minhyun is doing fine here.

Seongwu, on the other hand, has only two real friends in Jaehwan and Daniel, and those two are too busy making heart eyes at each other these days to be counted on for anything. He knows a lot of people around campus and he’d like to think he’s well-liked by most of them, but on a very shallow level. The majority of of his ‘friends’ know a carefully constructed image of Seongwu which doesn’t feel like him a lot of the time. They probably wouldn’t like the ‘real’ Seongwu half as much.

Most of the time, Seongwu feels alone. Once this enchantment is broken and Minhyun leaves, he’ll be alone again. If Minhyun doesn’t know what he’d do without Dongho—that was supposed be Seongwu’s role at first. And he just feels… displaced. Unsettled. He isn’t that person—the one you can’t do without—for anyone anymore. But he wants to be.

Seongwu clears his throat. “We should focus on the food,” he says, turning back to the stove. He wonders how much of his emotional turmoil Minhyun is being forced to experience alongside him.

“You’re right.” Minhyun agrees easily and turns his attention back to the dish. Silence stretches between them, until—“People genuinely care about you,” he says suddenly. Seongwu stiffens, expecting to find pity behind the sentiment, but he can only sense a fiercely tender sort of affection instead. “I think you can sometimes be a hard person to get to know, but people do care about you. You’re not half as alone as you think you are.”

“Thanks for the pep talk,” Seongwu laughs, a nervous sound that hangs in the air too long. He’s being comforted by a man who, up until two weeks ago, was happy to ignore his existence. But before that, Minhyun was the only person who really understood Seongwu and supported him, so this feels like a return to that time. And as much as he wants to ask why Minhyun didn’t care enough to stick around then, it’s a question for another day. Right now, he’ll just accept the kindness offered.

“You have me, at least,” Minhyun adds, and it’s paired with a nudge of Seongwu’s shoulder with his own as he comes to stand beside him at the stove. “I’m not going anywhere.” His voice is playful, almost teasing, but Minhyun's ears are bright red and it is enough to tell Seongwu that he means it. 

(It shouldn’t make him happy).

The _japchae_ is delicious and warms Seongwu up from the inside out. It’s funny how home-cooked food can have that affect, or perhaps he can attribute the feeling to something else. Minhyun looks at him across the table with a laugh in his throat as Seongwu spills noodles on himself, and they trade clumsily made side dishes and tell stories over beer well into the night. It’s a good evening and he wonders how many more of these they’re going to have.

He wonders what Minhyun meant by his words.  _You have me_.  

 

* * *

 

Seongwu wakes up in the middle of the night in pain. His neck hurts, and on further inspection, the ache travels down his spine and concentrates in his back as well. Seongwu tosses and turns, massaging his body however he can in hopes it’ll abate, but he gets no relief. It isn’t till he’s a little more coherent that he realizes the pains don’t belong to him, but Minhyun. He’s been sleeping on the floor for almost three weeks straight now and it clearly isn’t comfortable.

This was supposed to be a temporary set up, but since they don’t know how long Sungwoon will take… Seongwu sighs and reaches down to gently shake Minhyun awake. “Oi,” he hisses as Minhyun lifts his head, blearly eyed. “Get on the bed.”

“Seongwu? What—” Minhyun’s head is still heavy with sleep. He blinks up at him, disoriented, then jerks back once Seongwu’s words sink in. “You want me to _what_?”

“Looks like this whole thing is gonna last longer than we hoped and the bed is big enough for the both of us, so.” It’s two am and Seongwu does not want to have a long and protracted discussion about this embarrassing offer. “Just, get up here.”

Minhyun’s eyes narrow; he looks from Seongwu to the open space on the bed, then down at his own humble lodgings. “I—” Even though his voice is thick with sleep, he sounds sure of himself. “From what I remember, you kick in your sleep and always want to be the little spoon. I don’t—”

What. “I can _so_ be the big spoon,” Seongwu says heatedly. Why is that even a problem? “I’ll spoon the shit out of you.”

“I'm not sure how I feel about that proposition.”

“Just come here.”

It takes a little bit of badgering, but Minhyun finally gives up and moves to the bed. Grumbling under his breath, he crawls inside the covers and spends a long time fluffing and re-fluffing his pillow to get comfortable. He’s fussy by nature, but Seongwu senses Minhyun’s nervousness too. The last time they shared a bed was a middle school field trip and it was a bit of a disaster. But they’re older now and in better control of their bodies, so things should be fine. He hopes.

Minhyun lies awake for a while, stiff and uncomfortable, with faked even breathing to make it seem like he’s asleep. Exhaustion eventually takes over, however, and he is snoring lightly within the hour. Seongwu, on the other hand, is alert despite his best efforts to fall asleep and curses his moment of compassion—or as he’s calling it, ‘temporary insanity.’

Seongwu is pretty good at forcing himself to fall asleep usually, but he keeps getting distracted by Minhyun. He’s so close and so… warm, so solid. Seongwu stares at the nape of his neck and wonders how Minhyun would react if he blew on it. Probably squirm and turn back to him with a scowl.

It’s three fifteen am when Seongwu starts wondering what Minhyun would do if he kissed him there instead, just a soft and gentle peck before traveling down to the neck of his shirt. It’d be weird. It _would_. So why does he want to do it so badly? Where is that urge even coming from? It’s a little gay (not that Seongwu has ever claimed to not be a little gay, or a lot) and a little dangerous, but it burns in his chest, hot enough to scorch. He feels alive, like his skin is on fire, and the only way he can put it out is with Minhyun.

This feeling can’t be his—and yet Minhyun taunts him.

In the morning, Minhyun wakes refreshed with no lingering aches. Seongwu has been awake for a lot longer, but he pretends to come to several minutes after Minhyun. Stumbling after Minhyun as he climbs out of bed and fixes up his clothes, Seongwu fake-yawns to keep up the act. “How’d you sleep?” he asks, though he already knows. He’s dedicated to his craft—in this case, deception. “Wait, more importantly, how do you rate my big spoon skills?”

Minhyun pretends to think. Even in plaid pajamas with drool on the collar, he looks handsome and endearing. Seongwu blinks and rubs is his eyes. Or, he’s seeing things.“Six out of ten,” Minhyun decides finally. “Needs improvement, but I’m willing to let you practice on me.”

“You want to do that again?” Seongwu says, aghast.

“Why, I didn’t do anything weird last night, did I?” Minhyun asks. For some reason, a flush crawls over his cheeks as he turns his head towards the bathroom. Seongwu would bet ten dollars he had a naughty dream. Minhyun, getting down and dirty in his bed. That’s a dangerous line of thought.

“Nope.” His denial is swift. Stretching his arms over his head, Seongwu follows Minhyun to the bathroom, trying not to think too much about it. “I’m going to become a spooning master.”

Minhyun snickers. “Good luck with that.”

He can’t pretend that he’s completely opposed to the idea of sharing a bed. The feeling from last night has faded for the most part, but Seongwu can’t stop thinking about it. Desire is a familiar friend, but it’s never consumed him as it did last night. The worst part? It felt terrifyingly _right_ , and he can still feel it humming underneath his skin if he cares enough to look. As he watches Minhyun brush his teeth, the humming grows louder, itchier, impossible to ignore. His veins _sing_.

 _Yeah_ , he thinks, _good luck._

 

* * *

 

“I’ve been looking into binding enchantments and I think I figured out what the hell is up with yours,” Sungwoon announces, sliding into the seat across from them and stealing a handful of fries from Seongwu’s tray.

They’re in the dining hall getting some food before hitting the next set of classes—Minhyun’s first, then Seongwu’s. It’s been twenty two days since he and Minhyun woke up magically bound to one another. _Twenty two_ long and arduous days. It’s not completely awful; they’ve settled into a domestic routine now like a couple of roommates, and it’s only really awkward when they accidentally catch each other naked like, once or twice or three times.

And at the same time, maybe it’s also harder now that it was a week ago. Probably because Seongwu frequently has to deal with _feelings_ and _urges_ that are not exactly welcome or wanted or needed. At least Minhyun hasn’t noticed, or if he has, he hasn’t said anything about it. Thankfully. That’s a conversation Seongwu would pay literal money to avoid.

“So, what did you find?” Minhyun breaks the silence first, absentmindedly rubbing his wrist. He tries not to sound too eager, but Seongwu can hear it in his voice.

“The thing is—wait a second, Jongin’s bringing food.” Sure enough, Jongin drops into the seat beside Sungwoon, balancing two plates of spaghetti in his hands. “Sorry guys, I don’t think I’ve had a proper meal since like, the day before yesterday.”

“It’s true,” Jongin says. “We were too busy to stop and grab a bite.”

“I don’t think I want to know what you two were doing… together… that made you too busy to eat…” Seongwu has his suspicions, though. Really, it’s obvious.

“We were working on research—nevermind.” Sungwoon shovels food into his mouth as he speaks, as if each moment he’s not eating is a moment wasted. Seongwu decides to forgive the breach of decorum on account of him owing Sungwoon his life, or something like it. “Do you want to hear this or not?”

“Please disregard everything that comes out of Seongwu’s mouth and continue,” Minhyun says quickly, shooting Seongwu a dirty look over his shoulder.

“So, this came to me when I summoned that demon for my report,” Sungwoon says through bites of his food. “I was using a variation on that binding spell to tie him to me during his time on Earth, and when I was preparing it, I had to weave certain contingency measures into the spellwork.” He pauses and waves a fork in the air. “Like a quick release button or a kill switch. Something to break the spell if things went south.”

“And you think our, uh, spell has one of those quick release buttons?” Seongwu asks, narrowly avoiding getting his eye gouged out by the reckless fork waving.

“Yeah, yeah. See, the permanent versions of these binding spells are powered by rituals, to strengthen the enchantment and everything, but the ones like yours aren’t meant to last forever. They can, but they’re not designed to.” Well, that’s something of a relief. “So there’s usually some way to break the spell and you’re supposed to weave that into it from the beginning.”

“But are you sure ours has that?” Minhyun still sounds uncertain and Seongwu gets that. Did whoever cast it have the presence of mind to actually make sure there was some way to break it? Though if it  _was_ one of them, he wants to believe they would've put some precautions into it. 

Sungwoon hesitates and sets his utensils down. “I was getting a lot of resistance when I tried to dispel it earlier and—here, give me your hands.” Without waiting for them to move, Seongwu mutters a spell under his breath, and the link between Seongwu and Minhyun manifests in the form of the usual silver string. Except this time, there’s a small knot in the middle of it, and it grows bigger the more Sungwoon pushes against it. The link fades as the spell dies out and Sungwoon sits back, satisfied. “I couldn’t get rid of it because there’s already a mechanism here designed to break it. You just need to figure out what it is—probably a phrase or an action of some kind.”

“Right.” Minhyun leans forward, eyebrows drawn in concentration. “If we can determine who put the spell on us in the first place, we’d be better equipped to crack this—”

“But if not,” Seongwu interrupts. Considering they haven't been able to figure it out in almost a month, the chances of the answer magically popping into their minds is slim. “I guess we can start randomly guessing now.”

“Your optimism is boundless,” Minhyun mutters. “It doesn’t matter; this is a lot more to work off than we had before.”

Sungwoon picks up his fork again and spears a meatball off Jongin’s plate. He doesn’t protest, just lets Sungwoon do it. “Yeah, that’s all I have for you guys, though. Sorry it’s not more.”

Minhyun rises, tray in hand. “It’s plenty, Sungwoon. Thank you.”

“I wouldn’t say _plenty_ , but thanks.” Seongwu follows suit, but Sungwoon stops him before he can take off.

“Wait, can I have the rest of your fries?”

“Sure? Knock yourself out.”

Sungwoon is right; it’s not much, but it’s more than what they had a couple of hours ago. And they’re going to have to do their best to figure this out, or they might as well get used to spending the rest of their life together, which is becoming frighteningly possible and he thinks he might not mind. Seongwu doesn't want to try and unpack that. The simple fact that Minhyun does want to separate is enough for Seongwu to cling onto, forcing himself to agree. But maybe it doesn't matter what they thing. The solution is frustratingly  _just_ out of their reach. Every time they make progress, they hit a new roadblock.  

Some would say this is fated, that the universe is trying to tell them something, and while Seongwu wouldn’t say he’s one of those people, he thinks there’s something definitely cosmic about this.

He just wonders what they're supposed to learn. 

 

* * *

 

Gamma Omega Tau hosts another party.

When the invitation comes Seongwu’s way courtesy of Jaebum, he talks Minhyun into attending as his plus one. Well, Minhyun doesn’t have a choice in the matter (“We’re doomed to be each other’s plus ones for the rest of our lives,” Seongwu jokes. Minhyun lets out a weak laugh). But Seongwu is quick to explain that this isn’t just for fun and to blow off steam. In fact, he’s tempted to swear off parties forever, but this one is important. “We’re returning to the scene of the crime,” he explains. “Maybe this will help with the, uh, breaking the spell thing.”

“It’s been a month, Seongwu,” Minhyun says, exasperated. “I don’t think we’ll find anything there. How do you even look for clues for this sort of… case?”

“The atmosphere could jog our memories?” Minhyun still looks unconvinced. “Just come,” Seongwu whines, hanging off his arm. “For the free drinks, if nothing else.”

Which is how they end up in the Gamma Omega house. Seongwu is convinced Minhyun came just to keep him quiet. It’s valid. As always, the party is crowded and in full swing by the time they get there, and Seongwu barely says hi to Youngjae before someone is shoving a tall, smokey glass of an unidentifiable liquid into his hands and _no thank you_ , last time was enough of a disaster. Minhyun has no such objections; he downs the contents of the glass in one go.

“Whoa there, slow down.” Seongwu takes the empty glass from him and sets it down on a nearby table. “Everything okay with you?” he continues, frowning. The faintest hints of nervousness leak through the link, of anxiety and claustrophobia—it’s clear Minhyun doesn’t want to be here, but Seongwu’s having a problem figuring out why. Intuition says it’s linked to their unfortunate bond. Maybe Minhyun finally remembered something and the memories are overwhelming or disturbing. Maybe he just needs some air.

After some deliberation, Seongwu thumps him on the back. “Your knight in shining armor will provide. Follow me.”

“Lead on, sir knight,” Minhyun replies, rolling his eyes.

They end up on the roof of Gamma Omega Tau’s three story house in a precarious position. People slide off roofs and plummet to their deaths all the time, even more so when they’re intoxicated. Seongwu is fully, distressingly sober, so that’s one potential hazard taken care of, but he still doesn’t feel entirely comfortable sitting here, the tiles digging into the soft skin of his thighs.

Minhyun delights in the escape, on the other hand, spreading out and lying down with his arms tucked behind his head. “It’s pretty up here,” he says, humming, and looks over at Seongwu with a raised eyebrow. Before he can protest, Minhyun tugs him down until Seongwu is lying on his side, pressed too close to Minhyun’s body for comfort. It’s dark enough that Minhyun can’t see the dusting of pink on his cheeks, but it doesn’t help much.

“Firstly, ow.” He glares at Minhyun in annoyance. It’s really uncomfortable here. “Secondly, yeah, it is.” Seongwu struggles to get comfortable and huffs before turning his gaze to the sky. “The view here is actually pretty cool; you can see a bunch of different constellations from the Netherworld and stuff on campus.”

“Like… that one?” Minhyun traces the outline of one of the figures with finger. “The star there is really bright.”

“They call it the Morningstar.” It’s on the nose, but the residents of the Netherworld (and yes, he means demons) aren’t known for being creative. “You can probably guess the name of the constellation by that.”

“I can,” Minhyun chuckles, letting his arm fall back to his side. “It’s interesting, learning the names and stories behind these constellations we don’t normally get to see.”

“Isn’t it?” Part of the reason Seongwu joined the astronomy club in his first year was because he’d always loved looking up at the stars, and the club offered uncharted territory to explore, after a fashion. In high school, he and Minhyun used to go stargazing together all the time, armed with telescopes (which Seongwu magically enhanced) and star charts. “You should’ve joined the astronomy club,” Seongwu says, lost in that memory. Minhyun got his license first, and they’d lie on the hood of his car like this while searching for particular stars and constellations.

Minhyun shifts and closes his eyes. “I didn’t because I knew you were going to be there,” he admits after a short pause.

Seongwu blinks. He didn’t expect that answer. It’s awfully blunt of Minhyun and he wonders if everything is okay with him. “You really were trying to avoid me back then, huh?” he laughs to try and break some of the awkwardness, not really interested in an answer (not sure he wants one), but the sound dies in his throat when Minhyun abandons the sky to look at him with unusual seriousness in his eyes.

“I didn’t mean to initially, but as time went on, it just got…” Minhyun struggles to express himself. “ _Easier_ than talking things out with you.” He rubs his face and turns back, eyes cast up once more. “I think I might’ve put the spell on us,” he continues, resigned, and Seongwu senses it spill out of him like a big exhale, like a physical weight off his shoulders.

But it doesn’t make sense to him—Minhyun doesn’t seem like the type. Seongwu doesn’t want to believe it. “Why would you think that?”

“I don’t know.” He shrugs. “Maybe I was trying to atone? To fix things things between us? Maybe it was a product of my guilty conscience colliding with my drunken brain and it made sense to me at the time?” Falling silent, he sighs before adding, “I knew the spell, and I remember seeing you at the party, and it was all just… overwhelming. I could’ve done it.”

He could have, but that doesn’t mean he did. Seongwu acknowledges that sounds plausible, but immediately jumping to a binding spell is the kind of reckless behavior he can’t even imagine drunken Minhyun participating in. “Why did you—” Seongwu starts, then stops, then licks his lips and tries again. If Minhyun cared that much, then… “Why did you work so hard to ignore me? Is it because I never told you about magic?” He’s always wondered and, honestly, he would be pretty mad if the roles were reversed, so he understands.

“Oh, _no_. Not at all.” Minhyun’s response is swift and immediate, and Seongwu almost slides off the roof in surprise. “I mean, a little bit, but I got over it pretty fast. The first thing they teach us here is to keep magic a secret from ordinary humans, so I learned not to take it personally.” He lapses into silence and traces the shape of another constellation with his finger. “I thought you were trying to avoid me first because you figured out what I wanted to tell you before you left that summer after our graduation.”

Seongwu thinks back to their goodbyes, to the serious look on Minhyun’s face as he tried to say something before Seongwu’s mother interrupted them. “What was it?” He never gave it a second thought after that. “I didn’t worry about it much since you didn’t really seem to want to continue that conversation.”

Minhyun props himself up on his elbows and looks over, alarmed. “You didn’t? I agonized over it for ages.”

“What was it?”

Letting out strangled sort of laugh, Minhyun shakes his head. “It doesn’t matter.”

“Yes it does.” Seongwu feels like he’s missing a piece of the puzzle. “We’re in this now; you can’t just pull out.” When Minhyun doesn’t respond, he nudges the man with his foot. “Come on. It’s water under the bridge anyway.”

Grimacing, Minhyun sits up and stares out into the distance. “I…” he hesitates and wrings his hands together, his voice low. “I was trying to tell you I was in love with you.” The words tumble out of Minhyun with unnecessary force, and Seongwu flinches as they hit his ears, naked in their honesty. “I thought you figured it out and didn’t feel the same way, so were ignoring me to be kind and spare me the rejection. Or, when I was feeling less generous, I thought you were just an asshole.”

“Oh.” The words take a while to sink in. They _still_ haven’t sunk in. Minhyun was what? Why? Seongwu thinks back to high school, to their final year together, and can’t think of a single indiciation Minhyun gave that he—there were so many other fish in the sea. “I had no idea.” Was he that blind or was it just not obvious? It has to be the latter, and probably for some noble reason like protecting their friendship or whatever. Seems like a Minhyun thing to do.

He forces himself to sit up as well and draws his knees up to his chin. _Minhyun was in love with him_. His heart pounds in his chest, uncomfortably fast and hot. The warmth spreads through his body, making his toes curl inwards, and he swipes his tongue over his dry lips. Minhyun was in love with him. Not just a ‘like,’ but _love_ and all that implies.

“You were… endearingly, frustrating dense when it came to romance,” Minhyun says after a while. The confession would be the elephant in the room if it was a room and not an open air area instead. It still hangs between them, taking up way too much space, and Seongwu is a little scared to interact directly with it.

He huffs. “I was _not_. You were always the romantically clueless one! A ton of people tried to ask you out in high school and you just swerved—”

“Because I already liked someone.” Minhyun sighs and hugs his stomach. “I dropped hints. You just didn’t pick them up. It was heartbreaking, actually.” In spite of his words, his mouth is stretched in a small smile as Seongwu looks at him, offended, and punches his arm.

“Sorry I was an idiot.” Sorry for still being an idiot. "The... the person you mentioned who didn't like you back. Was that me?" 

Minhyun turns to hide the redness in his face. "In my defense, I never intended for you to figure it out." 

Seongwu plays with the zipper on his jacket, not really sure what to say. Part of him is still bewildered and trying to absorb Minhyun’s confession, while the other part of him tries to come to terms with the quiet thrill that shoots up his spine. ‘Was’ is past tense, but he sort of wishes it wasn’t, that Minhyun is in love with him, present tense. Because he's not that guy, is he? Things would be different this time. 

It would be so much easier to just probe for what Minhyun's feeling through their emotional link, but Seongwu is scared of what he might discover if he does. 

“I should be the one saying sorry.” Minhyun breaks the silence first, sighing loudly. He curls his hands into fists to keep from fidgeting. “I was being unfair. I should’ve just asked, but I was scared to hear what you might say.”

“You don’t have to apologize.” He doesn’t blame Minhyun—and it’s not like Seongwu wasn’t complicit in this either. “I’m just glad it wasn’t… I mean, I thought you had a worse reason to hate me, though I don’t know what.” Seongwu stops and clears his throat. “But you seriously thought I would cut you out of my life because for something like that?”

“Yes?” Minhyun catches the look on his face and splutters. “ _No_. I meant to say no. You would never be that petty or small-minded.”

Seongwu really wants to defend himself, but the truth isn’t much better. He doesn’t have much ground to stand on. “I guess I deserve that.” He laughs, but the sound is strained and feeble with no real power behind it. “My actual reason was stupider.” He’s never said this out loud. “I’m no good at goodbyes; I didn’t know how to—like, there’s protocol to it, right? But I didn’t know what it was. Hell, I didn’t even want to say goodbye.” The sense of finality a proper goodbye brought was too depressing, and Seongwu has always been the type to hold on too long.

“There’s more to it,” he continues after a brief moment of silence. “I was terrified of coming here, you know? St. Gregory’s was supposed to be everything I ever dreamed of, and I was scared of going here because it meant being separated from you.” He laughs again.“I think I went too far in the opposite direction by trying to prove I’d be fine without you. I didn’t need you. But it turns out, I did. I _do_.”

Minhyu doesn’t say anything. Seongwu probes deeper and finds no anger coming from him, no contempt, no condemnation. His quiet contemplation makes Seongwu nervous, but before he can spiral, Minhyun reaches over to put a hand on his arm. “It’s alright,” he says. While it’s far from an explicit statement of forgiveness, Seongwu gets the message through the link.

He tips his head back to look at the stars. “And now look at us.” Seongwu feels weightless, like he could float away at any moment. It feels good to have finally cleared the air after three years, and even though it doesn’t change much at the end of the day, Seongwu is—happy. He’s _happy_. He’s happier than he’s been in a long time. “Together forever. The way the universe intended it.”

Minhyun chuckles and weaves his fingers through Seongwu’s before giving his hand a gentle squeeze. “Yeah, Mr. Intergalactic.” His face is close, almost too close, cheeks pink from the brisk wind or the height or a number of other things that theoretically have nothing to do with Seongwu. “You have the stars in your eyes,” he continues, his voice dropping low. For a second it looks like Minhyun is going to kiss him, or maybe Seongwu is going to kiss Minhyun. Their breaths intermingle, and Seongwu wants so badly to lean forward and—

Wait, shit. “Are you drunk?” he asks, shifting away from him.“You’re drunk.” Seongwu’s tone turns accusatory as he gets a whiff of the alcohol on Minhyun’s breath. He saw Minhyun have one drink, but surely it didn’t hit him already.

Minhyun moves away as well, letting go of Seongwu’s hand. “Maybe.” He sounds disappointed.

Drinking spells bad news. Wasn’t last time enough? “Let’s get you home,” Seongwu says, standing up. He does his best to hoist Minhyun up to his feet without stumbling, but the minute he does, Minhyun tugs him back down again. Seongwu falls almost into Minhyun’s lap—manages to avoid it in the end, but their legs are tangled up together and Seongwu’s ass hurts and he’s laughing despite all of it because Minhyun looks so inelegant and messy and Seongwu _loves_ —

“I want to stay here a little longer,” Minhyun says, taking a deep breath.“With you.” He leans forward to rest his forehead against Seongwu’s and closes his eyes, exhaling.

Seongwu closes his eyes too. “You’re always going to be with me,” he says, and for once, he isn’t really really thinking about the spell.

“Not always.” Minhyun sounds oddly insistent. It triggers something within Seongwu. Sounds… familiar, especially out of Minhyun’s mouth.

“For now. Isn’t that good enough?”

Minhyun hums. It isn’t an answer.

They don’t need one.

 

* * *

 

_“Miiiiiiiinhyuuuuuuuuuuunie,” Seongwu says, drawing the name out. It’s ass o’clock and the room is spinny and he keeps meaning to burp but he’s scared of what’s going to come out of his mouth. None of that really matters when he spots Hwang Minhyun across the crowded room surrounded by a glow like a goddamn angel—_

_Oh. It’s just the light from the lamp._

_Regardless, he is very shiny and pretty and Seongwu wants to talk to him right now, so he makes his way over to him without tripping over his feet and it’s a long and treacherous journey but Minhyun is right there with his twin brother. Oh, this is new. “Minhyunieee,” he slurs again, to Minhyun or his twin brother. Definitely one of the two.“Do you remember when we were BBFs?”_

_Minhyun frowns. His cheeks are red and so are his ears and he doesn’t look steady on his feet, but he manages to speak slowly and clearly which is good because Seongwu is struggling to understand what’s going on beyond his own brain. “Best Barbecue Friends?”_

_“No, the other one. The Best Butt Friends.” That still doesn’t sound right. “BFFs? Best Friend Friends?” There we go. That makes perfect sense. They used to be the Best Friend Friends for Life. “We should do that again. We should be friends. I miss you like crazy, dude.”_

_“Okay.” Minhyun scratches the side of his nose. “Okay. That would be n...nice. I would like that.” His blush deepens and he shifts his weight from one foot to another. “Yeah, okay.”_

_Seongwu claps his hands together in delight. “Let’s stay together forever!” His declaration is met with a blank stare by the people around them, but Seongwu has eyes only for Minhyun. He throws an arm around Minhyun’s shoulders and steers him towards what he thinks is a buffet table but could be the wall instead. This is going to be awesome, Ong and Hwang, friends for **life** —_

_Until Minhyun shatters his poorly developed and idyllic dreams. “But how?” he asks, blinking rapidly. “How can we really stay together forever? Forever is a long time and we already broke up once.”_

_Hm. That is a real problem. Seongwu rubs his chin in thought. There’s gotta be some way to hang out with his bud for the rest of his days. It takes a while for his mind to mull the problem over, but Seongwu finally comes up with the perfect solution. His eyes light up. This is going to be so fucking awesome. “I,” Seongwu begins, his lips curling up in a satisfied smile, “know a spell that can make it happen—”_

 

* * *

 

Seongwu fucked up.

Seongwu _majorly_ fucked up on an unprecedented level of fucking up which is why it’s hard to judge him on a scale of one to _extreme fuckery_. But he’s still doing it—judging himself. Because oh _fuck_.

Realizing he is the one behind this drawn out magical mishap is, foremost, a gigantic blow to his ego. Seongwu is supposed to be the one who knows the pitfalls of magic better than anyone else. Even drunk, he should’ve been able to figure out that a spell like this binding one would backfire. He should’ve thought it through before he recklessly cast it and effectively shackled him and Minhyun together for the better part of a month.

Barring that, he should’ve just figured out it was him sooner than this. Minhyun was right when he said the most likely culprit was one of the two of them, but Seongwu supposes he never gave it a lot of thought because he didn’t want to dredge up repressed memories. Maybe part of him was always aware, or at least suspicious, of his role in this fiasco, and never brought it to the forefront of his mind for a reason. Perhaps he subconsciously wanted to keep Minhyun around longer. The thought makes him feel dirty, like some kind of selfish cartoon villain twirling his mustache and cackling _you belong to me—_

The only good thing coming out of this revelation is the means of breaking the spell. Seongwu remembers the incantation quite clearly; he’s embarrassed by how easy it is and how long it took him to figure it out. But now that he has it, freedom is on the horizon. Freedom from Minhyun, which is a concept he has mixed feelings about. It might be for the best, considering their near kiss last night. Unless Seongwu misinterpreted that and it was nothing after all. He's still too scared to dive into their link and try to puzzle it out. 

So yes. For the best. 

Seongwu is on edge during breakfast, the events of his dream-slash-memory playing back in his head. The secret sits heavy in his chest, rattling against his ribcage and demanding to be let out. With how consuming it is, he’s surprised Minhyun hasn’t come out and asked about it yet, but Seongwu gets the sense that Minhyun is trying to be patient (while dying of curiosity on the inside).

It’s not fair to keep this from him any longer. Seongwu wanted to plan the reveal out better, but as the minutes stretch on, he caves and sets his coffee down. “Hey, so.” Clearing his throat, he picks the mug back up and takes a lengthy sip before continuing. “You know how last night you thought you might have been the one who put this blinding spell on us?”

“Yes?” Minhyun asks slowly, edging closer to the edge of his seat. His plate of eggs lies untouched. Which, for some reason, Seongwu feels offended about because he made them and they’re not burnt for once. He deserves praise!

Perhaps not, considering what he’s about to admit to. “Well, you weren’t. Because it was me.” It seems like the world freezes for a very brief moment, then resumes. Minhyun doesn’t react, doesn’t blink, doesn’t even _move_. Wrapped in a thick layer of shock and disbelief, he can only gape at Seongwu’s guilty face. “I dunno, I dreamt about it last night and—it was my idea, my spell.” In response to Minhyun’s words, but he decides to leave that out. After all, he wanted it too. 

“You—” Minhyun’s at a loss for words. “You are—” Breaking off, Minhyun shakes his head and wraps his hands around his coffee mug and closes his eyes. “I wish I could say I’m surprised, but I thought it had to be you or me.” Pausing, he opens his eyes and smirks. “Mostly you, though.”

“Drunk you would argue, but alright.” Seongwu whistles under his breath. However, he’s relieved Minhyun isn’t mad at him. Once the initial shock wears off, Minhyun seems to be accepting it. Is _okay_ with it, at least. No plans to throttle Seongwu where he sits, no murderous intent rolling off him. “I thought you would be angrier.”

“I am, a little.” Minhyun coughs and picks at his eggs again. “But you were drunk—we both were—and this was a push for us to finally talk about things, so it’s not like this whole experience has been awful.” He looks up and gives Seongwu a reassuring smile. “I’m not going to hold it against you.”

“It hasn’t been awful for you?” That’s news to him.

Minhyun shrugs. “We’re friends again. I’d call that a victory.”

Friends. He savors the word; it's slightly sour on his tongue. “We _are_?”

“Seongwu,” Minhyun begins, with a hint of irritation in his voice. “Do you honestly believe we could’ve survived one month together in extremely close quarters and not come out as friends on the other side? Do you think I would have avoided killing you if I didn’t have some misplaced affection for you?”

“Misplaced?” But he’s grinning, because even if Minhyun hasn’t said something Seongwu didn’t already know, it’s nice to hear it. Everybody needs affirmation every now and then (Seongwu more than most). “I’ll take it. I have one affection for you too. Just the single one.” That much is a lie and they both know it, though he prays Minhyun can't tell just how deep it goes. 

Instead of engaging, Minhyun finishes off the remains of his breakfast before setting his fork down and pushing the plate away. “I suppose you remember how to break the spell, then?” he asks, folding his arms on top of the table. He tries not to sound too eager, but Seongwu can sense the desperation in him, the impatience at wanting to get this spell off immediately. Seongwu should feel the same, and he does, but it’s also sad in a way, like the end of an era.

He polishes off the last of his coffee and grows serious. “You remember our secret handshake? It’s basically undone by, um, that whole motion.”

Minhyun groans. “Of course,” he mutters. “Of _course_ it had to be that.”

“What can I say? I was playing to the theme.”

They don’t waste much time after that. Working together, they clear some space in the living room in case the breaking of the enchantment causes other things to break as well—you never really know, so it’s always better to be safe than sorry. Once the preparations are done, they stand in front of each other and stare. If everything goes well, this will be the last time they’re forced to be those close due to the bond. Hopefully it won't be the last time they're close,  _period_. 

“You sure you know the handshake?” Seongwu asks finally. He rubs his hands together, despairing at his clammy palms. Goddammit, what an annoying habit. Hopefully, Minhyun won’t mind.

“I don’t know how I could forget.” He chuckles dryly. Glancing at his watch, Minhyun holds his hands out and grins. “Okay, let’s get this over with. I’m itching to—”

“Get away from me?” Seongwu throws in, and Minhyun frowns.

“To sleep in my own bed.” Exasperated, Minhyun shakes his head, but he knows Seongwu makes these kinds of jokes himself so other people won’t. His expression eventually softens into a small smile. “Of all the people I could’ve been tied to, I’m glad it was you.” 

The fluttering feeling in his stomach intensifies as Seongwu takes his hands. “Same. I’m glad it was you.”

Their secret childhood handshake takes 45 seconds to successfully complete (they timed it once, just for the hell of it) and Minhyun looks like he wants to die the whole time, but they get through it almost perfectly and—

Nothing happens.

Minhyun’s confusion quickly morphs into annoyance. “It’s not the handshake, is it?”

“Nope!” Seongwu admits cheerfully. “There’s an actual incantation—no worries, I remember that too.”

The air in the room grows uncomfortably hot as he chants the words to break the spell; the link between them manifests in a flash of silver light, then stretches and stretches until it snaps with an audible sound and Seongwu feels like someone just doused him with hot oil. Gasping, he sinks to the floor and drags Minhyun down with him as pain wracks their bodies. Separation is a slow, laborious process, and each second lasts an age before Seongwu finally, _finally_ feels the magic unhook and fizzle into nothingness.

It seems too good to be true until Minhyun tentatively pours some magic into the space between them, but nothing out of the ordinary happens. The spell hangs there for a second before fading away—no glowy thing string tying them together, no confusing mix of emotions, absolutely nothing. Seongwu tentatively takes a few steps back, then a few more, then steps just outside their two and a half foot boundary—

But he’s fine. He’s _fine_ , Minhyun is fine, and they’re not curled up on the floor in agony. Seongwu wants to laugh. It feels like a victory.

Chest heaving, Minhyun looks at him with misty eyes and immediately pulls him into a tight hug. He buries his face in Seongwu’s neck and lets out a disbelieving laugh. “We did it.” His voice is muffled and hoarse under the strain of holding back pure emotion. “We’re free.” But despite their new freedom, they’re still clinging onto each other and Minhyun doesn’t seem like he’s willing to let go soon.

“Nominally. You’re clingy.”

“Shut up and lean into the hug.” But after a moment, Minhyun pulls away reluctantly. “So it’s goodbye to the old ball and chain, I guess?”

It sounds so depressing when Minhyun puts it like that. “It’s not a goodbye,” Seongwu says, swallowing.  _God_ , he doesn't want it to be.  _God_ , he doesn't want this to be the end of them. “We’ll still be, you know, together and around. Let me buy you a coffee sometime.”

“Deal,” Minhyun grins. He opens his mouth to say something else, but eventually decides against it. His expression is inscrutable; Seongwu has no idea what it could possibly be, or what Minhyun could possibly be feeling. The loss of his emotions bleeding into Seongwu’s is disorienting. He got too used to it and now he feels _empty_.

Seongwu almost says something too, then doesn’t.

With the spell gone, they’re free to do and go wherever the hell they want, and for Minhyun, that means packing up the rest of his things. He’s eager to get home and return to normalcy. Seongwu is too, even though _normal_  is something he can't really define anymore. It's something  _with_ Minhyun; they carved out their own normal here over the past month, a space for just the two of them, and he’ll be sad to see that go.

Or maybe it's more than that. Seongwu doesn't know what to do with the realization that he  _likes_ Minhyun, or with the memory of their near kiss the night before. He was kind of hoping the feelings would just go away once the spell was broken, but they haven't; they're still  _here_ , knotted up in his chest, a solid and discomforting reminder that the moments he'll miss the most are those early in the morning, his arm draped around Minhyun's waist, the sunlight slanting over Minhyun's face as he sleeps, Seongwu's lips a hair's breadth from Minhyun's ear because he can always blame it on moving around too much in his slumber. He'll miss the way Minhyun's nose scrunches, his loud and contagious yawns, his insistence on sitting down for breakfast before heading to class every single morning. His pancakes, but that's a different train of thought. 

He's worried. Freedom doesn't taste as sweet when Seongwu tries to figure out how to exist again without Minhyun. 

On his way out, Minhyun stops and searches Seongwu’s face, his features softening into a small smile. “I’m going to miss you,” he says. After a moment's hesitation, Minhyun pulls him into another hug, cheek resting against Seongwu's hair. "Thank you for putting up with me for the past month." His breath ruffles Seongwu's hair, sends a shiver down his spine, but Minhyun's doesn't seem to be put off by his squirming. When he straightens up, he puts his hands on Seongwu shoulder's and and pauses, his eyes searching for something in his face. Lips parted, his gaze flicks to Seongwu's mouth, then back up, and Seongwu holds his breath, waiting for Minhyun to just lean forward and make their almost-kiss a reality. 

But he doesn't. He lets his arms fall and smiles instead, a small, resigned turn of the lips. 

Seongwu ignores the sudden tightness in his chest. “I’ll miss you too,” he forces out. “I’ll—I’m—” If Minhyun isn't going to do it,  _Seongwu_ wants to just put it all out there, blurt out everything he’s been holding inside for the past month, everything he’s tried to hide from Minhyun. He feels like if he won’t say it now, he’ll never have a chance to—but being stuck with all these emotions on his own is overwhelming; he might be drowning.

Minhyun clears his throat. “Keep in touch,” he says, almost questioning.

Seongwu looks at his lips, then looks away, struggling to keep his mouth shut and his head above water. “Yeah, I will.” 

 

* * *

 

Living his life as his own separate person again is, in a word, weird. Seongwu is keenly aware it shouldn’t be, but that’s the only word he can think of to describe it. _Weird_. It should be liberating.

Instead, he finds himself spending way too much of his time missing Minhyun’s company. He spends way too much of his time thinking about Minhyun in general, and he’s pretty sure he officially crossed into ‘obsessive’ territory some days ago. Seongwu feels like he deserves a break; he _has_ been sharing a… brain? soul? profound sense of self? with the man for the past month. He should be allowed to dwell, even if it is unhealthy and sad.

Seongwu is justified in wondering what Minhyun is doing right now, wondering what he’s thinking about, what he’s feeling, whether he’s thinking about Seongwu too. His mind suddenly feels too empty and too full at the same time; without Minhyun’s emotions pushing against his, Seongwu is just left with himself and that’s not always a good thing.

They _have_ met a few times in the halls between classes, and once at the coffee cart in the old building, but aside from brief ‘hellos’ and ‘how are yous,’ Seongwu hasn’t gotten the chance to really speak to Minhyun about anything since the spell broke. It’s hard to get used to, considering they used to talk to each other constantly, but at the same time, this is familiar in a different way. The virtual silence was status quo before this whole fiasco and he's worried about it becoming the new normal again. 

They’re long overdue for a serious conversation. More so when he thinks about how that fucking _feeling_ of wanting to be with Minhyun again is more than just fallout from the bond, like phantom pains. It’s not just about wanting him here, but wanting him here _and_ looking at Seongwu like he has the goddamn stars in his eyes, holding his hand, being the little spoon to Seongwu’s efforts to master being the big spoon. The things he took for granted because they were a side effect of being forced to spend so much time together, but that wasn’t why he liked or did them—

It was because he liked Minhyun, and their bond was just an excuse to pretend they were closer than they actually are without having to admit to something potentially embarrassing or painful. At the end of the day, Seongwu really hasn’t changed; he’ll do anything to avoid being honest even if it means running away, even if it means putting himself through suffering.

Anything to avoid offering Minhyun his heart on a platter for fear of Minhyun returning it. 

( _But this_ , he thinks, miserable and still drowning in his feelings, _is hardly better_ ). 

 

* * *

 

Rumors fly that Seongwu and Minhyun broke up. Jaehwan even pops by one evening with chicken and booze to help Seongwu get through the heartbreak and disappointed when he finds none. “You guys were so _good_ together,” he complains, making himself at home on the couch (which does belong to him; Jaehwan picked it up at a yard sale and left it behind when he moved out because Daniel refused to let it into their apartment). “What happened?”

Seongwu cracks open a can of beer and sweeps Jaehwan’s feet off the cushions. “It was mutual.” Not a lie. “We just needed a break from each other.” Also not a lie.

“When I need a break from Daniel, I just set him up in the living room with a video game, a sandwich, and a beer.” Seongwu chokes on his first sip of beer and doesn’t know how to respond after that. Jaehwan shrugs. “Helps me write my music.”

“It wasn’t that kind of break.” He doesn’t know how to explain what happened. It was over because it was never meant to begin in the first place. They righted a wrong. It's a  _good_ thing. It'll take a couple more beers for Seongwu to fully believe that, but he'd rather cling onto the lie than face the fact that he's _alone_ because he was too scared to put himself out there.

He spent a month emotionally and physically linked to Minhyun and still couldn't tell him how he felt. But Minhyun didn't say anything to him either, so there's that. “I think I just liked him more than he liked me," Seongwu says finally. His feelings were pretty clear, he thinks. Though he tried his best to hide them, Seongwu is pretty sure he did a shitty job of it. And sure, there were a couple of points where he thought  _maybe_ they were straddling the line between friendship and something more, but Minhyun was drunk for one of them. Drunk, and Seongwu is three years too late otherwise. 

(And Minhyun  _would've_ kissed him if he wanted to). 

Jaehwan sits up and peers at him, frowning. "Well," he begins gently. "Did you  _ask_?" 

"No?" 

“Why not?”

"I don't know." It actually is a lie this time, but Seongwu doesn't want to talk about these things with anyone, much less Jaehwan. But that isn't fair either; Jaehwan is one of his best friends and surprisingly astute when it comes to relationship issues. "I'm scared of rejection?" 

Jaehwan is quiet for a long time, seemingly lost in thought, before he breaks away chuckling and reaches for a beer. “I’m no expert, but I'm sure no one who's seen the way Minhyun looks at you would bet on him rejecting your feelings.”

“No way—”

“Scout’s honor.”

Seongwu throws a cushion at him. “Were you ever a boy scout?”

“Nope!” Jaehwan cackles, ducking to avoid the projectile. 

“Then your words mean _nothing_ to me.”

But as much as it pains Seongwu to admit, Jaehwan might have a point. He won't know anything for sure unless he asks Minhyun face-to-face. The same kind of thing led to their three year freeze in the first place; he was too scared to face Minhyun's rejection head-on and built it into something it wasn't in his head. Seongwu doesn't want to make the same mistake now, to fall into old patterns of miscommunication and regret. He'll talk to Minhyun honestly and really put himself out there for once. What'll happen will... happen. Seongwu will deal with it then, because this isn't working for him now. 

By some weird twist of fate, the day Seongwu makes up his mind to speak with Minhyun is the day he finds the man in question outside his apartment with a coffee in one hand and his phone in the other, too busy squinting down at the screen to notice Seongwu approach. He doesn't look up till Seongwu clears his throat and says his name, and it startles him so badly he nearly spills coffee down his shirt. 

"Seongwu, I—" He casts around for an explanation, then seems to give up and slides his phone into his back pocket. "I have nothing to say. I think I just came here on instinct." Laughing sheepishly, he rubs the back of his neck before leaning forward to study Seongwu's face. "Are you okay? You look pale." 

His face is really close; Seongwu's breath catches in his throat as his eyes sweep over Minhyun's features, drinking them in. "I'm good, just surprised," he manages to croak out, trying to rub some of the redness out of his cheeks. "I was just thinking about you." That came out wrong. "I mean, what the fuck, haha. What a weird coincidence. Are we still, you know, _linked_?" 

Minhyun smiles wryly. “No, only me in here." He taps his chest. "It’s been… an adjustment.” He sounds almost... tired, disappointed maybe, like he's finding freedom just as hard to settle into as Seongwu is. 

"And you miss me."

"And I miss you," Minhyun agrees readily. "More than I thought I would."

Seongwu doesn't know how to take that, but invites Minhyun inside—it seems like the polite thing to do and he's tired of lurking outside. There's a wistfulness to Minhyun's expression as he steps inside and takes his shoes off, mouth twitching as he no doubt remembers all the time he spent here. "I missed this place too— _how_ is it this dirty again?" The nostalgia is stripped away quickly when he gets a better look at the junkyard Seongwu calls home. 

Seongwu winces and drops his book bag on the couch. "Hurricane Jaehwan swept through?" 

"Don't blame Jaehwan for this." But there's no heat to Minhyun's words as he tosses the empty cup in the trash and takes a seat on the couch. 

"Those beer cans are his." Seongwu kicks a couple aside to make his way over and sits down beside Minhyun. Their knees bump against each other; he chalks it up to clumsiness. Minhyun raises an eyebrow and Seongwu can sense the disapproval radiating from him even without the link. "Just saying," Seongwu adds hastily. "But, er, anyway, how's it going? Long time no see." 

"It's been two weeks," Minhyun points out. "But good. Good. Strange?" He wrings his hands together. "Everything is so... dull. I never realized how boring I was before."

Seongwu blinks. "You're not boring." To be fair, he used to think so, but now he knows better. 

Chuckling, Minhyun looks down at his hands. "I don't know about that. Emotions I thought came from me actually came from  _you_." He falls silent for a while. "It took me some time to get everything sorted out in my head. I'm sorry if I've been distant lately. I just needed to figure out if I wanted what I thought I did." 

"I get that. I felt that too." Seongwu swallows past the lump in his throat. Days of hoping he wasn't in love with Minhyun eventually solidified into the reality that  _yes, he is_. The fact that Minhyun sitting here in front of him right now sends his heart racing and his palms sweating is proof enough that this is as real as it gets. Almost  _too_ real; he's sensing that flight response kick in, but there's nowhere for him to run. 

Minhyun closes his eyes and takes a deep breath, unaware of Seongwu's mental dilemma. "Seongwu, listen, I—“ he begins, opening his eyes. 

“Can I go first?” Seongwu interrupts, and Minhyun blinks in surprise, but lets Seongwu have the floor. "I don't know how to say this, but I should before I lose my nerve again." For the third, fourth time in a row, he adds silently. "God, I was hoping this would get easier or it would just magically come to me if I started talking, but nope. Nothing. Nada. Zilch. I'm getting an anxiety stomachache again—"

Reaching over to take his hand, Minhyun gives it a comforting squeeze. "Seongwu,  _breathe_." 

“I like you," he blurts out. "I may even love you. Scratch that. I'm in love with you." Minhyun's face is white, bloodless, his hand suddenly squeezing Seongwu's with too much force. Seongwu powers on before he can falter and make a mess of this. "I know this could possibly damage our fragile friendship and set us back like a year's worth of progress, but I thought since things were bad before because we didn't talk to each other, you deserved some honesty from me right now." 

Minhyun  _still_ isn't speaking. Seongwu doubts he's breathing right now. 

"I'm getting a strange vibe from you." Seongwu's nervousness translates into nonsense spilling from his mouth. "You _do_ remember I can't really read your emotions anymore, right? Not that you gave me a lot to work with even when we were linked. This confession stuff would be a lot easier if I'd been able to figure out whether or not you liked me back too—" 

Before he say more, Minhyun leans forward and grabs Seongwu by the collar. His mind barely catches up with what's happening before Minhyun's mouth is pressed against his, hot and insistent as he pulls Seongwu closer. Seongwu  _sinks_ into his kiss, his hands winding in Minhyun's hair. It's fast and frenzied,  _allegro_ , but he doesn't want to slow down when they've been taking it slow for so long. Seongwu doesn't want this to end. 

Breathing hard, Minhyun finally pulls away. His ears are as red as Seongwu's face, but his face splits into a wide grin, the likes of which Seongwu hasn't seen since high school. "Ong Seongwu, you talk too much," he says, swiping his thumb over Seongwu's bottom lip. " _Far_ too much." 

How unfair. “You’re one to talk," Seongwu pouts, but he's grinning like an idiot too. Perhaps because he  _is_ an idiot, but right now, he's a happy one. 

Chuckling, Minhyun pulls his hand away. “You’re still doing it.”

Just to shut him up, Seongwu kisses Minhyun again, slow and gentle this time, savoring the taste of him—slightly bitter, as energizing as his morning coffee. He likes kissing Minhyun. Seongwu could get used to this. When he leans back, Seongwu clears his throat and asks, “Does this mean you like me?”

Minhyun's eyes flutter shut as he shifts forward and presses his forehead against Seongwu's. "I don't know if I ever really stopped," he admits quietly. "It was all I could feel the whole time we were bonded. I was terrified you'd figure it out and think... lesser of me. It was like I was on high alert 24/7 trying to make sure you wouldn't find out I was still hopelessly in love with you." 

"Wha—" Seongwu remembers that all-consuming feeling, but he thought it was firmly  _his_ and had nothing to do with Minhyun. "I thought  _I_ was the only one experiencing the crush."

Minhyun chuckles. "I guess this was one of those emotions we shared without realizing it." 

"Probably." Warmth spreads through his body at the sound, and Seongwu feels giddy as he thinks about how they  _share_ this emotion of all things. Both stupidly in love. "I genuinely don't when it started, after all," he continues after a while. "Maybe I’ve always been in love with you; it just took me a while to catch up.”

Minhyun opens his eyes, his gaze soft. “Well, we know you’re slow.”

“Is this subtle shade?”

He cups Seongwu's face in his hands, his gaze soft and indulgent. “Not that subtle, but I’m glad you finally made it in the end.”

“Me too.” Seongwu's heart swells. He covers one of Minhyun's hands with his own and guides it to rest over his heart. "You don't need the link to sense how happy I am, right? How much my heart is beating out of my chest?"  _How much I love you?_

"No." Minhyun laughs, leaning in to kiss him again. "Because I see  _you_ now and forever _._ " 

And Seongwu thinks that even without the bond, _yeah, you do_.  _You always have._  

 

* * *

 

When Sungwoon sees Minhyun and Seongwu walking to class together holding hands, he groans and nearly drops his books. “Do _not_ tell me those guys got tangled up in a binding spell again—” he begins, ready to rail about their sheer stupidity and astoundingly bad luck.

But before he can start, Jongin throws and arm around his shoulders and gestures towards the two of them, drawing attention to their bright smiles and easy conversation they’re sharing. They don’t look miserable. “No, I think this time they’re actually fucking,” he says confidently, and Sungwoon nearly drops his books again for a different reason.

“Are you out of your—” Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Seongwu steal a kiss from Minhyun before darting inside his classroom. “ _Oh_.” Sungwoon blinks; he read that one wrong. “Good for them, then?”

Jongin leans down to speak into his ear, “That could be us,” he whispers, breath sending a tingle down Sungwoon’s spine.

He refuses to give Jongin the satisfaction and wriggles out of his grip. “Keep dreaming,” Sungwoon informs him blithely.

Someday, but for now, he’ll leave the sexytimes to Minhyun and Seongwu.

**Author's Note:**

> i wrote and rewrote this fic many times and i'm still not sure how i feel about it. it's not quite what i intended it to be, but i hope the prompter enjoys some part of it regardless ♥


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